The Thrill of the Chase
by Tracy2
Summary: A kidnapping has traumatic repercussions for all concerned. This is a pure DM story, no Rae Yeager or any of my other original characters. STORY NOW COMPLETE. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement.
1. Chapter One

**The Thrill of the Chase**

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction, written, and hopefully read, strictly for enjoyment. The main characters of Mark, Steve, Amanda, and Jesse, as well as Ron Wagner and any others that you recognise are from the series Diagnosis Murder, and as such are the property of CBS/Viacom. Anyone that is new belongs to me.

As always there are people to thank when a story is written. I have a wonderful crew of three beta readers, who all find different things to mention or suggest. Without them my stories wouldn't be so much fun to write. This time however, one lady in particular persuaded me to give Rae a rest for a while, and this story is the result. P. I thank you very much; I had a ball writing this, it was just what I needed.

**Chapter One**

The stone was cold against his skin, and however hard he tried he couldn't move away from it. The deep ache in his muscles had a lot to do with the fact that he was shackled hand and foot and stretched out almost like a letter X. Somewhere there was a draft coming in but as there was no light in the cellar, or dungeon, or wherever it was he was being held he didn't know if it was from a door or a gap in the walls. Normally he would consider both possibilities as something to aim for so that he could escape, but he knew that was impossible.

His feet were cold against the floor and he was thankful that he still had jeans on; at least a part of him was free from the contact with the stone that the entire room seemed to be made of.

There was a sudden noise as a door creaked open and he was immediately flooded with light, probably from a sunny California day. He turned his head away quickly, his eyes protesting at the sudden intrusion. He wasn't allowed to do even that though as a hand grabbed his chin and roughly returned his head to its original position.

"Drink." The one word was a command, not a question and although he was desperately thirsty he tried to refuse.

"No, no, I won't." His voice came out as a croak and he swallowed to try to lubricate his throat.

"Oh, I would, darling, who knows how long it will be before I decide to come back and let you have another little sip." She put the container back to his lips, but this time she pinched his nose hard, forcing him to open his mouth and as he did so he felt the liquid pour down his throat, causing him to gag and choke.

"Careful, I need you alive a little longer, my darling, otherwise how can I kill your father?"

"What?" The word was forced out between paroxysms of coughing. "No!"

"Oh yes, and the beauty of it is that he will have no idea that he is in danger, because he has no idea who I am."

That would make two of them, because even now he could see her, he still couldn't identify her. She ran a long fingernail across his chest, pressing just hard enough for it to cause discomfort and he willed himself not to react.

"Oh a strong man are we?" Suddenly she moved the glass in her hand and threw the remaining liquid into his face; he gasped and jerked back hitting his head hard on the wall behind him.

"Arghh." He couldn't help but cry out and was furious with himself for doing so.

"That's better; I do like a reaction from those that I keep here." Now she was running her hands across his bare chest in a far gentler and more provocative manner, again he tried to look away, but this time he was caught, not by her hand but her lips, as she clamped down on his own and kissed him hard.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"All I'm saying is that even if he goes away for just a couple of days he usually calls, if only to make sure I'm not selling too many salads." Jesse pouted, caught sight of himself in the side of the metallic serviette dispenser, and forced a smile onto his face.

"Jess, he is a forty-five year old man, I will not call him to make sure he is ok. If you want to then that's your business." Mark picked up his coffee and began drinking it, hoping by doing so he would close the discussion.

Jesse looked at his friend and mentor and, realising that he would be inviting trouble if he carried on with the conversation, started muttering to himself instead as he wiped the counter down now that the lunch rush was over. "I still think it's strange. I didn't even know he was going; he just left a message at the nurses' station, took a long weekend's worth of vacation time, and didn't tell me. I might have wanted to go with him but did he ask, oh no, not him, I wouldn't even have taken light beer."

"Jesse, if it will stop you worrying I will send him a text when I get home from the hospital tonight. He's due back tomorrow so I really don't know why you're bothering. Unless you _are_ serving too much salad!"

**. . . . . . . . . .**

He had lost all track of time after his captor left him. She hadn't said a word after she had finally released him from her hard and brutal kiss, but her hands had once again trailed across his chest and then she had gently massaged his muscles where they were taut from the position she held him in. He didn't know if he had any chance of breaking free from his chains but he had been trying on and off ever since she had left, although in the dark it was somehow far harder than it would be if he could at least turn his head and see what he was doing.

The feeling of something suddenly running across his feet sent his emotions into a terrified turmoil and he had to clamp his jaw tightly shut not to cry out. He could hear it now, the skittering sound of little claws on the stone, and his heart pounded in his chest as he was suddenly bathed in sweat. He wasn't squeamish but he knew that his efforts to rid himself of his manacles had caused both his wrists and ankles to bleed. Any creature scuttling around in the darkness would be drawn to him by the smell of the blood and he didn't even want to think about what could happen after that.

Once again, before the rodent could return, the door opened and the light caused a sudden cacophony of sound as more than one or two, hopefully small, creatures headed for the darkness. Despite his loathing for this woman he was grateful for her unintentional assistance, and again he was furious with himself for showing a weakness.

"I think it is time to prepare for your father's visit. And you are looking far too strong, even tied the way you are he won't be fearful for your health and that can't be. He has to suffer as we suffered. He has to understand what it's like."

"What?" He didn't want to talk to her, to make any conversation at all, but he had to know, had to be aware of what was being planned, that way maybe he would be able to cry out or do something to save his father … and Jesse, if his dad came then his best friend wouldn't be far behind. He couldn't be responsible for hurting two of those he held most dear.

He felt the warm softness of a hand against the skin of his left foot as the cuff was removed and then the metal encasing his wrists were also released. Despite his best efforts he couldn't stop himself from falling, his legs suddenly weak underneath him as they took his weight again.

"Oh get up!" He felt a shoe kick out at him, making contact with his ribs and he grunted as the air was forced out of his lungs. Then he was staring up at the ceiling as his hair was grabbed and his head forced back. "I said get up." She yanked back on the handful of his soft but thick mane and another yell of pain was forced from him.

"Who … who are you?"

"I am your jailor. That is all you need to know. Now, do I have to insist that you get up?" She moved her foot back as if to kick him again, so he carefully placed the palms of his hands on the floor and pushed upwards, and then he stood before her, making eye contact hoping to show that, however much it may appear to the contrary, he was not afraid of her.

"Such a fine specimen, so handsome and strong, and such a shame." She ran her flat palm down his chest and he cried out in pain as a blade hidden between her fingers split the skin with no warning.

"It has to be done, my darling, don't you understand that? I will have retribution, your father was responsible for the death of the one who meant the most to me, and so it is only fitting that I do the same for him." Again the palm travelled across his chest and again the skin split and bled as he yelled in agony.

"Nothing to say? Is cry out all you can do? Maybe I should free your other foot and set the dogs on you. You would give a good scent, they would enjoy the chase." She put two fingers in between her beautiful deep red lips and whistled a single shrill note. For a minute or two nothing happened but then the door was nosed open and a large ponderous looking bloodhound made his way into the room and sat at the feet of his mistress.

"This is Diminuto, or Dimi for short. Dimi, scent." The dog lumbered up to him, and again he felt the cold of the stone as it told him that even without the chains he had nowhere to run.

The dog gave a short bark and then, launching itself, placed two front paws on his shoulders and snuffled around his neck and upper chest leaving a trail of drool as he did so.

"He has your scent, Lieutenant, he is the leader of my pack, he won't hurt you, but he will lead those who have no such compunction. The chase is all that Dimi cares about, well that and a good scratch behind the ear. Dimi, leave." The dog did as it was bid, dropped to the floor, let out a submissive whine and then padded off in the direction it had come from just a few moments earlier.

It was all he could do to keep himself upright, to not collapse out of pure terror. The large dog didn't scare him any longer, he had known, as soon as it landed on him, that it was a gentle giant, but he also knew of many breeds of dog who weren't and he had no doubt that some, if not all of them, would be in the pack his captor had mentioned.

"Of course you could save yourself all this agony if you would only call your father. Or even better tell me the password for your cell phone so that I can do it myself. He could be here in little more than an hour and you would be free to go." She moved right up close to him, her scent filling his nostrils and her beauty shutting out all other things in his eye line.

"No, never. Arghh." Again he had to call out as she slapped him hard across the face and he was thankful that the blade seemed to be in her other hand.

"I can destroy you. Cut you up into little pieces and send them to that precious father of yours. Is that what you want? For the both of you to be dead? How pathetic you are!" This time the fist that slammed into his stomach did contain the blade and he collapsed to the floor in agony as she pulled it from his body and left the room once more.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

Although he hadn't admitted it to Jesse, Mark was concerned that Steve hadn't made contact. It was true that he was a fully consenting adult and he certainly had no reason to keep in touch, except that in the past he had always done so.

Finally, not wanting to let his worry show to anyone, Mark had retired to his office and put another call through to Steve's cell phone. All he got was Steve's voice mail, it was all he had been getting for two days and again he left a short message and rang off. For a while he sat and thought but in the end, anxiety getting the better of him, he dialled the familiar number of the station and asked for Detective Banks.

"Hi, Cheryl? It's Mark Sloan. Look, I'm sorry to bother you, and I know I'm probably being a silly old man, but do you know if Steve took his cell phone with him on his weekend trip?"

Ten minutes later both Jesse Travis and Amanda Bentley were in Mark's office and they were waiting for Cheryl to join them. Amanda had put a call through to Ron Wagner and he, unwilling to assign the case to anyone else, had told her he would arrive in Los Angeles by the following morning.

"What exactly did Cheryl say, Mark?" Amanda had finally got the older man to sit down in one of the chairs in his cluttered office. He was white and she could see that his hands were shaking, but whether it was from fear or fury she wasn't sure.

"That Steve didn't have vacation booked. He wasn't away on any planned leave but his girlfriend had called in for him and said that he had a bad case of food poisoning and wouldn't be in for at least three or four days if not a little longer. Nobody, it seems, thought anything of it, reassigned his pressing cases for a short while and then let the squad room run without him. He's the senior detective! How could they do that?"

"We had no reason not to, Mark. He's a grown man, if he wants to take a sick day I guess there's nothing we can do about it. I didn't know he had a girlfriend so I figured maybe he wanted some time with a new lady." Cheryl appeared in the doorway her beautiful face creased with concern and anxiety.

"He doesn't have a girlfriend, not that I know about, Jess?" Mark looked over to his son's best friend and business partner. If he didn't know about a girlfriend either then it was obvious, to him at least, that there wasn't one.

"He's not said anything to me and he sure hasn't been acting as if he has a new woman in tow. But then again if he did have she's probably a psychopath or serial killer and he's probably tied up in a cellar somewhere."

"That isn't even funny, Jesse." Mark's tone warned him off and the doctor cast his eyes downwards.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Jesse turned away, kicking himself mentally for the words which, meant as a mood lightener, had just made things ten times worse. When would he ever learn?

**. . . . . . . . . .**

He didn't know when the two goons had come into his cell, but he did know when they had left. His now battered and broken body had finally been allowed to fall to the floor, pulling at his ankle, bruising it and causing even more pain when he hadn't thought it was possible.

Being a doctor's son had its ups and downs; one of the downs was that he knew what bits of him were fractured or damaged and what it meant. Oh not the proper names for them but he knew he had at least a couple of broken ribs, his shoulder was dislocated and he was sure he had at least one black eye and a couple of loose teeth.

He tried to get to his feet, to show anyone who came past that he was still strong, even though he felt anything but. For a moment he wanted his dad more than anything else in the entire world. To just hear his voice, to feel his arms around him, for a moment he wanted to be a kid again.

"Oh they did a good job, I was told they were the best, and as you had busted, I think you call it, both of them over the years they were happy to oblige. Now, smile for the camera." A flash exploded in front of his eyes and then he saw the butt of his own gun come down towards his temple and finally there was nothing.

**. . . . . . . . . . . **

"The first thing we need to do is get someone to check his apartment and look for his truck. I've put an APB out on him, but it's been two days, Mark, he could be anywhere." Cheryl didn't like being the bearer of bad news but in her job it was something she had gotten used to pretty quickly. "Have you been home since he went away?"

"Not a lot. I had a patient in the ICU last night that I wanted to monitor so I slept at the hospital. I got home late the day he went away and was back here early the next morning. I guess about six hours, something like that." Mark cursed inwardly; he had been so determined to let Steve live his own life that he hadn't even taken his mail down to his apartment but left it on the hall table so that his son would know he had stayed in his own half of the house.

"Good, that makes it easier for us." The new voice in the doorway surprised them all, and despite the seriousness of the situation Amanda found herself smiling broadly.

"Ron, I thought you would be here by tomorrow."

"That's what I said. I was already in LA, but as I'm not at liberty to tell you why I figured that I would keep my location to myself for just a little longer." The tall FBI agent came into the room, shook hands with Mark and took in the entire scene in one glance.

"So, Steve has gotten himself into trouble again, huh? Well, I'm sure between us we can sort it out." Ron had moved across to stand next to Amanda. He was concerned for his friend but one of the perks of working with the Sloans was that he got to spend time with Doctor Bentley.

"I hope so. Nobody has seen nor heard from him for almost three days. But we all believed what we were told and thought he was fine." Mark was thinking furiously as he spoke and he turned to Jesse. "Cheryl said that his girlfriend called the station, who left the message here?"

"I don't know, want me to go check?" Jesse had perched himself on the edge of Mark's desk but now he stood back up.

"Would you mind?"

"Of course not. I'll be back in five." The young man hurried out of the room, his white coat flying behind him.

"Ok, as soon as Travis returns I would suggest that we all adjourn to the beach house. That way, Mark, you can tell us if there is anything out of place or not as it should be and we can decide what we are going to do next." Ron seemed to have taken charge and for the time being all of them were happy to let him do so.

"Detective, do you have anyone at the station checking the release notices? Maybe someone he put away just got out."

Cheryl nodded her head. "The Captain said he would get on it as I left. I'll call and check."

"Amanda, get onto BBQ Bob's, find out if anything has been left there, for Mark or Jesse. Maybe a ransom note of some kind. If it's just a plain envelope they could be keeping it for when they're next in."

"I'm gonna arrange for a chopper to be put on standby. If he has been taken and we find him I want to be able to get there quickly." The room had turned into a command centre. All its occupants were doing something except Mark and he couldn't really focus on anything too technical right now. He watched as Cheryl spoke into her cell phone and then saw Amanda begin to talk. Ron had moved over into a more private corner but his words were coming across loud and clear as well.

Five minutes later they were just waiting for Jesse to return so that they could all head for the beach house. Mark had sat behind his desk, he didn't know why he was so worried, so far all they knew was that Steve's reasons for going away didn't tally. There was no reason for anyone to suspect foul play but they all did.

Suddenly the door to his office was pushed open so quickly that it went all the way back and slammed against the bookcase behind it.

"Mark … I …" Jesse's eyes were wide and he was breathing heavily. Amanda moved across towards him and took the piece of paper out of his shaking hands.

"Oh, my God." She in turn handed it to Ron who looked at it wordlessly before placing it on the desk in front of the older doctor and Mark knew instantly why he had been so worried.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"I think that your father should be getting a little concerned by now. But I am disappointed by your lack of curiosity, Lieutenant."

"As the chances … of … you telling me anything … are nil … why should I waste my breath?" He looked up through hooded eyes. His left one was throbbing and he could already see the swelling as he looked through the slit which was all that was left of his vision splay.

"Oh, I don't know. I think that now things are moving along nicely I will let you in on a few of my secrets." She sat down on the floor just out of reach of him and he knew that however much he might want to get to her he couldn't.

"Maybe … maybe you could start with who you are." He had moved a little so that he could see her more clearly but the room just swam as he did so and for a moment he was glad of the cold stone that he could rest his forehead on.

"But that would take all the pleasure out of this. I thought you might recognise me. I'm told that in some ways I look so like him. But then he was just another number to you and your dad. You though, Lieutenant, you would never have made the connection without that interfering old man. I have nothing against you personally; it's your father I want."

"This man … whoever he is … he must … must have done something bad … or my … fa … father wouldn't have been … invo … involved." The world was spinning again and suddenly he felt a glass being held to his lips.

"Drink, like I said I have nothing against you. I'm not a monster. But I will avenge my brother's death. Yes, death, he is dead. Killed in jail, and if it wasn't for Mark Sloan he wouldn't have been there in the first place."

He tried to think, to put faces and names up against hers but his body hurt too much, his pain was overwhelming and no matter how hard he wanted to concentrate on other things it seemed that he wasn't able to. It hurt to breathe and he knew that the broken ribs were in danger of causing a punctured lung. He couldn't let that happen, he would be dead meat for the dogs and he had to get away. His head swam with every movement and he realised that the gun butt had caused, at the very least, a mild concussion.

"Hungry." The word burst from him unbidden and he saw her smile.

"Is that a plea, Lieutenant? Should I feed you? I think not. I will let you breakfast before I release you in the morning. My babies require a good workout. Now, sleep, you will need your energy for the chase." She got to her feet and moved across towards him and before he could reach out to protect himself he felt a cloth being pressed against his mouth and nose, he struggled but knew it was futile.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"Mark, it's dark and we have no idea where to go. We all need to get a good night's sleep and then, when the morning comes, we can start over." Ron had said the same words three or four times and each time Mark had tried to come up with a reason why they should go out looking for Steve right away.

"We might spot something, his truck; maybe some of his snitches know something. We should go try and round them up."

"Mark, the ones that we share I've already called. Those he keeps to himself, well no one but Steve would know who they are." Cheryl felt so for the father of her partner. She had known him a long time but never before had she seen him so at a loss, it was a situation that he couldn't understand and he was helpless.

"But we have to do something. How can I sleep knowing that Steve …" He couldn't continue and he looked round, needing to do anything other than what he was doing which was nothing.

"Mark, Ron and Cheryl are right. We'll stay here tonight. There are enough beds and sofas for us all to get some sleep. Then, first thing in the morning, Cheryl can get on to the precinct and find out what they know, and we can do all those things that you want us to do." Amanda had led him over to one of the sofas as she spoke and gently sat him down on it.

"But you saw the pictures, Amanda, how can I sleep when … when…"

"I know, and I feel that way too, but we don't know where to look and in the dark everything is different. We have to give it up until morning." Her deep brown eyes were full of tears as she spoke and for a moment they almost caused Mark to collapse against her. The e-mail, which had been sent to the hospital for his attention, had shown his only son lying in a medieval type jail chained to a wall by his ankle. He had been wearing only blue jeans and his body was covered in blood and bruises. The first picture had shown him to be awake and obviously in pain, but in the other two he had been unconscious with blood now on his temple along with the rest of his body.

Even thinking about the photos caused Mark to lose his grip on reality; the words, when he had first read them, had almost caused him to pass out himself.

_Doctor Sloan, this is what happens when you play detective. The law isn't for amateurs; it is the professionals who suffer._

_When I have finished with him I will tell you where to collect his body._

_A wellwisher.___

His body, the words swam round and round in his head and he let out a groan.

"Mark?" Jesse was by his side in an instant, feeling his pulse and resting a kindly hand on his shoulder.

"I'm alright. I'm alright." Mark tried to shrug his friend away but Jesse was having none of it. "Leave me alone! You shouldn't be bothering about me, we need to find Steve."

"I know we do, Mark, but I don't want to be the one who tells him that we didn't take care of you in the process. It'll be far worse than informing him that sales of salads have doubled!" To his delight Mark calmed down a little as he spoke. That was more like it. Positive comments, that's what he had to use, positive comments. "Now, a very experienced and wise doctor I know would advise the patient that a few hours sleep in a nice warm bed are called for. Maybe a little hot milk with vanilla just to dull the edges. What do you say?" Jesse smiled and to his relief got the nod he had hoped for.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

He was woken by the sudden and very unwelcome sensation of cold water being thrown over him. Shivering he tried to back away and felt every muscle in his body object. His stomach screamed at him and he remembered fuzzily that he had been stabbed somewhere there.

"I'm glad you're awake. Now stand up." The voice was the same as the previous day and the day before that, but somehow it was also different. She was even more confident that she had been, even more in control and finally he knew that he was beaten, that whatever she told him to do he would do it. But still he would try to find a way to save his father.

He tried to do as she said and get to his feet but nothing wanted to work. He couldn't get his body to do as he asked it and his fear rose as he heard the anger in her voice.

"I said stand up!" His hair was yanked sharply, his head throbbed dizzily and he knew that if he had eaten he would puke right at his captor's feet. While that might give him a perverse pleasure he wasn't sure he could take much more punishment.

The night's sleep, drug induced or not, had done nothing to ease his aches and pains and now as he was held by his hair he knew that things were going to get a lot worse before they got better, if they ever did.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

Mark had been prowling around his home since a little after half past five in the morning. Finally he had ended up in the kitchen making coffee he wasn't sure he would even drink. He knew realistically that there was no more chance of them obtaining new information at this time of day than there had been the previous evening, but he couldn't just lie in bed when somewhere his son was in serious trouble.

The fact that it was his fault Steve had been taken made his feelings of helplessness much harder to deal with but he knew that the promise he had made to the unconscious person in the photos to never again intrude into his police work if only he would come home was half hearted at best. Anyone who took another's life deserved to be hunted down and there was a part of him which would always want to dig and delve and find those people regardless of what happened to those he loved and cared for.

"Mark?" Jesse's voice cut into his thoughts and he turned to face his young friend.

"I'm not going back to bed. I can't. I need to be doing things." Mark found himself instantly on the defensive and Jesse bit back the suggestion that had been on the tip of his tongue.

"Ok. So how about we do something together? The crime scene guys finished with Steve's apartment, we could go check see if anything grabs us."

"Like someone grabbed him you mean?" The retort was sharp and quick and Mark had the grace to look ashamed. "Jess, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"It's ok. Come on, that way we won't wake anyone else up." Although nothing had been said no one had made their way to Steve's part of the house to sleep. Amanda had taken the room which used to belong to Carol and Ron had taken the bed in the guest room. Jesse, because he was shorter than Ron, had slept on the sofa in the lounge which was why he had heard Mark as he came padding through on this way to the kitchen.

The stairs down to the lower part of the house were cold on Jesse's feet and the air chilled his upper body. He wished he'd pulled on his socks and shirt before joining his friend. He didn't want to go back and leave Mark alone though and so he carried on, remembering that Steve had carpet in some parts of his apartment so at least his feet would be ok.

"We know that he was taken from here. Why didn't I come check?" Mark smacked his fist into the doorframe as he stood just inside the living room.

"Because you were giving him space. Mark, what are the chances of him being abducted? This was all worked out to cover not only the kidnapper's tracks but Steve's too. They wanted him not to be missed. It took three days for the e-mail to come to the hospital. That could have been done at any time. We are playing their game right now."

Mark's face suddenly lit up. "Jess, you're a genius."

"Well, I know that, but what did I say?" Jesse smiled, he loved it when he did things to help out, even when he had no idea what they were.

"The e-mail, we can trace Steve from where the e-mail came from. What happened to it?" Mark was running back up the stairs as he spoke, and Jesse, no longer caring if he woke the entire household, called out to him.

"You left it in the dining room on the table."

Mark already had the pieces of paper in his hand by the time Jesse caught up with him and he paused a second to remember who was the older of the two of them.

"Well?"

"It looks like a group address. Findafriendonline. somewhere or other. How do I find out where that came from?" All the energy drained away from Mark again and Jesse's heart went out to his friend even more. He thought for a moment and then a smile lit up his face.

"If I go to Community General, open the original e-mail and put the cursor over the addressee the actual address should come up, it might even show up on the in-box page, it works on my server at home so hopefully it'll work at the hospital too. I just hope they haven't deleted it."

"I'll call. You go." Mark was almost pushing Jesse towards the front door as he spoke and finally Jesse dug in his heels.

"Ok, I'll go but let me get dressed first. Maybe grab a slice of toast … I'll just get dressed." Jesse saw Mark's face, made his way back to the sofa, grabbed his socks and shirt and began to make himself reasonably presentable. He ran his hands through his hair but only succeeded in making it stick up in different places than it had before.

"Mark, I'll be back as soon as I can, but if you get a lead just go, I'll catch up with you."

Jesse didn't stop to hear his friend's reply but grabbed an apple out of the dish on the table and headed for the entrance hall.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The water had made him shiver almost uncontrollably but he wasn't sure if it was just from the shock of that or his whole ordeal. Whatever it was it made his captor even more frustrated with him and he found himself held by her while one of her henchmen came in and fastened his wrists in metal shackles behind him, causing him to cry out in agony as his dislocated shoulder was damaged again and the pain increased in his upper body, making him even more helpless than before.

The man left without a word but he had seen his face not that it helped him, he still had no idea who he was. His captor too still remained a mystery to him even though he knew her Christian name, even though she said she resembled the man who had died, even though she had been so close to his face that he could feel her breath on his body.

"Now, Lieutenant, we need to have a little discussion. You seem to be in pretty good physical condition." She ran her eyes appreciatively over his body and he wanted to shrink away or use his hands to cover himself up, but he could no longer do that and her eyes made him feel as if he was on show.

"You must work out." The words were used as an insult but he tried to stare her down. It hurt to do most things but he could look at her with his one good eye and not use up any of his energy in the process.

"You know I have told you before, I like some reaction from those that stay in my accommodations." She took his jaw into her hand and gripped it tightly. The pain radiated up to his temples and he had to break his gaze as his eyes filled with tears.

"I heard her you know. All those years ago saying how handsome you were. Telling anyone who would listen to her. And you are, my darling, so very handsome. It's such a shame that you are related to that man. We could have been so good together."

Finally he was released and he slumped down. Every part of his upper body ached or throbbed. His head was pounding and he wished that this time she had offered him a drink because he was desperate enough to take it.

"Now, this is what is going to happen. It is …" She stopped talking and looked at a small gold watch on her wrist. "A little after ten in the morning. You will eat your breakfast and then we are going for a short drive. Oh, and I'll need to introduce you to my babies before we leave. After all, how can they find you if they don't smell you first?"

He didn't reply, there were no words, and he knew that whatever happened he was totally at her mercy. He couldn't get free, couldn't warn his father, couldn't do anything and he was furious at himself for his helplessness. She stood to go and get his meal and suddenly he saw a chance. Sticking out his unfettered leg he caught her feet and sent her flying.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

Mark's frustrations knew no bounds. He had been awake for over five hours and so far nothing of any use had been achieved. Everyone had woken up and eaten breakfast. Amanda had contacted her mother and arranged for the boys to stay with her for the foreseeable future, explaining just a little of what was happening. Then Jesse had arrived back with the news that the e-mail lead probably wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon.

_"Mark, I'm sorry. The address was of a group. There was a private e-mail address on it but it was just from a cyber café in Van Nuys. I spoke to the guy but he said that he gets loads of people in and out all day. Tourists mostly, sending mail home. He checked back a little to see what he could find and I called Captain Newman to get someone to go down there and backtrack, see if they could find out whether the e-mail was just sent from there or whether it was sent in there and then forwarded on."_

The difficulties that such a simple task had created left Mark spinning. He hadn't thought of it being sent from one location to another to another to another. It could have started out anywhere in the country. They were no closer to finding his son even though they had been contacted by the person who had him.

Cheryl, who had slept at home the night before, had gone into the station to try and find out anything that she could that might relate to Steve and things he had done in the past. She was going to contact some of his ex-girlfriends as well; to see if that would lead anywhere.

Ron had organised a poster campaign using the picture Steve had in his police personnel file. Airports and service stations were being targeted as well as the area around the cyber café just in case anyone had seen him.

Mark was heartened by all the activity but still he wanted to be on the road, on the way to where his son was being held, so that he could bring him home.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

If he hadn't been so determined to prove to himself that he was still a man he would never have tripped her. Her fury had exploded and she had taken a riding crop to his back, splitting the skin there and on his manacled arms, causing him to cower in as small a huddle as he could manage.

"How dare you! You think you can get one over on me? Well you are wrong! I am the one in charge here. If you touch me again I will kill you!"

"I … I thought you liked … a response." He knew he shouldn't and the crop came down again over wounds which were already open causing him to cry out in agony.

"Handsome, but so stupid. Now, Lieutenant, I think that breakfast is off. You and I will go for our little ride instead. Get to your feet." She moved over and he felt her unchain the shackle from his right ankle and, the remaining fight having deserted him, he did as he was told.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The phone at the beach house suddenly sprang into life and the look of terror combined with hope that passed across Mark's face tore at Jesse's heart as he made his way over and answered it for him.

"Sloan residence … Cheryl," Jesse was silent as he listened to the woman on the other end of the line, then he picked up the pencil which was resting by his hand and began to write on the piece of paper which was also there. "And you're sure it was her?" Again he listened and made a few notes. "Cheryl, I don't know that Mark or Steve have seen her since then. But I'll ask. Are you coming back here? Oh ok. Yeah, we can meet you there." Jesse put the phone down and turned to look at his friends, his face a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"Cheryl thinks she knows who it is and why. She also has a feeling she knows where Steve might be."

"So why are we waiting around here, lets go. Steve needs us!" Mark was almost out the door by the time he finished speaking and Ron, Amanda and Jesse followed him making sure that everything was locked up as they did so.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The journey in the open topped jeep had made him realise just how much trouble he was about to be in. The sun beat down on him as he lay in the back causing his wounds to dry and crack, increasing the pain he felt. There was absolutely no hint of a cloud in the sky and he looked around trying to get an idea of where he was but all that did was make his aching muscles scream out and when she saw what he was doing his captor pushed him further down into the bed of the car where he was travelling.

"As much as I would love to just drop you off here I think that this is a little too close to civilisation. Another half an hour and we will be there." The vehicle stopped and suddenly his eyes were being covered with a dark cloth. The swelling of the one causing it to throb even more against this latest restriction.

"We can't have you knowing too much about where we're going." She moved away from him and then he felt the car being driven round and round in a circle before heading off again but he had no idea in which direction.

The journey seemed to take a lot longer than a half an hour. He was pretty good at gauging how many minutes were passing. It was one way of killing time when he was on surveillance, and now he was almost certain that it had been about an hour since he had been blindfolded.

"Well, Lieutenant, it is time for you and me to part company." The engine was suddenly cut as they came to a halt. "It's been such fun, I'm sure you will agree. Now I have a few things for your journey." She hauled him out of the jeep as she spoke and to his annoyance he collapsed to the ground and was unable to stand. He felt her hands on his face and then the sun was glaring at him as the darkness disappeared.

"One bottle of water and … no that's it. One bottle of water." She handed him a small individual bottle of spring water and then laughed. "Don't drink it all at once." She took a key from a loop on her belt and undid the manacles on his wrists, picking them up and throwing them into the back of the vehicle where he had, until a moment ago been lying.

"No! Don't go … please." He tried to grab her as she moved around and climbed back into the driver's seat but he missed and then his vision was clouded by the exhaust fumes as the jeep moved away. As it did so he heard her call out.

"Welcome to Death Valley."


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

The sun was merciless as it beat down on him. Shade, he had to find shade. Raising the less painful of his battered and torn arms up he shielded his eyes and tried to see if there was anywhere that he could hide from the powerful rays and try to re-group.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"The body was found this morning but she had been dead about a week; I was searching for anything, anything at all, so I ran the name through the computer and discovered she was a witness in a case of Steve's. I followed that up and found the guy had died in prison just over a month ago. There is nothing else current that leads back to Steve; I think it has to be linked." Cheryl explained her findings to Jesse and Amanda while Ron and Mark both looked at the official papers she had given them.

"I've got on to the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department and they ran a check on anything to do with him. He has a sister that lives in Beatty. Local sheriff said that she hasn't been seen in about a week. He also said that she had been totally devastated by the death of her brother." Cheryl paused a moment as Mark looked up from what he had been reading and began to speak.

"So we go there. It's what, a couple of hours by helicopter or plane? If necessary I'll hire one." He was on his feet already but stopped as Ron put a hand on his arm.

"Mark, if Steve's in Nevada then it's federal; she's crossed the state line with him. I'll get all the manpower we can possibly need and then some. I can have agents in … where was it? Beatty?" He received a nod from Cheryl, "In less than two hours."

"Then do it." Mark slid the phone on Cheryl's desk closer to him but as he did so it began to ring.

"Detective Banks … yes he's here, hold on." She put her hand over the mouthpiece. "It's for you, Doctor Sloan, the hospital?" Cheryl looked a little surprised. She was sure that they would know he wasn't working right now.

"Oh, thank you." Mark tried to sound calm as he took the receiver from her. "Doctor Sloan … what …? No, no. I heard you … Send it here … You know where I am just e-mail it here." Mark paused and then handed the phone back to Cheryl. "Tell them the address for here."

"Mark? Mark, what is it?" Jesse was instantly by his side and helping him into a vacant seat. He had seen how his friend had buoyed himself up to take the call and how, now, he was empty again.

"Another … another picture. The hospital got another picture. Jesse, we have to find him, before it's too late we have to find him."

A second phone rang, this time a cell and Ron, with a gruff apology, moved away to speak.

"Wagner… What …? Where was that found …? Ok… No, we'll be flying up sometime today." Ron turned to speak with Mark but saw how white he was and so for a moment paused. He indicated to Amanda that he needed to talk with her and together they moved away a little, as they started to converse the computer announced the arrival of mail.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

There was no shade, just unremitting sunshine and the odd brush like bush which cast a small shadow. He crouched down as close as he could to one of them and tried to think what to do next. The water was so very tempting but he knew that if he drank it all at once he may not get any more and so carefully, holding it in the hand of his useless right arm, he undid the top with his left. He allowed himself two mouthfuls and then he did the top back up again. His body sagged a little and the branches of the bush dug into the raw wounds on his back causing him to cry out in pain. Even that small movement made his arm hurt even more and he knew that before he tried to find his way back to civilisation he had to do something about his shoulder.

For a minute or two he just sat, his head swimming, and every part of his upper torso shouting at him, sending so many different pain signals to his brain that he was unable to deal with any of them. Finally it came to him, the only thing he had to use was his pants and he needed to turn one leg of them into a sling.

Knowing, however, was far easier than doing and so he sat a little longer trying to work out how to go about it. As he looked down at the blue dusty material he realised with a smile that sometime during his ordeal one of the legs had been ripped. If he could just continue that on maybe he would be able to fashion something that his father and Jesse would be proud of. Carefully looking around he realised that the painful shrubs were his best tool and so he broke off a longish branch and began attacking his jeans with it.

Thirty minutes later he was sure he was about to pass out but he was, at long last, proud of something that he had done during the whole awful ordeal. He had his arm up in a sling which would at least protect it from some of the painful movements he was certain he would put it through as he struggled not only to stay alive but to find his way towards any type of civilisation.

The disappointment he had suffered as he had realised there would be no car tracks to follow, because he had been left on hard rock, had dissipated a little as he had staggered towards the sandy surface which supported the bushes and their useful branches. He wished that one of them was long enough and strong enough to use as a staff but that wasn't to be. He did have a shorter one which he planned to keep with him though, just in case it might come in handy.

Taking another careful swig of his water he used his stick to help him to his already painfully hot and sore feet, his torn, jagged pants' leg meaning that his bare calf caught on the grit and gravel breaking the skin as it did so.

Once he was on his feet he shielded his eyes and looked up into the sky as a sudden shadow caught his attention. Above him he could see birds circling and, with a heavy heart, he knew that they were waiting for him.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"Jesse, let me see it. I have to know." Mark's voice was almost breaking with the emotional stress of everything he was going through.

"Mark, it isn't gonna make any difference if you see it or not. You know he's in trouble. We just have to find him, fast." Jesse had seen the deep lacerations on his friend's back and the way that his right shoulder was at a very odd angle. He knew that Mark would miss neither of those things, nor the look of defeat on his son's face as he huddled on his knees looking up in the direction of whoever it was who had taken the photo.

"Jesse, get out of my way!" The older man got to his feet and forcibly moved the young doctor from in front of the computer screen. "Oh, my God." A chair was pushed behind him and he fell backwards into it. "We have to find him, Ron; we need to get your guys moving."

"Mark, they've found where he was held. There's no one home, but he was there, no doubt about it."

"How … how do you know … and where is he?" Mark wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers. If there was no one home then maybe they were already too late.

**. . . . . . . . . . **

He could see a rocky incline, not far ahead, he was sure it wasn't too far ahead, the sand beneath his feet wasn't making walking very easy but if he could get to it, then maybe he could find shelter. A cave maybe_ or a nice picnic area_ … he shook his head, his mind was wandering. A cave, if he could find a cave out of the sun he could wait until nightfall and carry on then. But the dogs … he hadn't thought about them for a while, he had to keep ahead of the dogs. He was suddenly forced to his knees by an attack of cramp in his legs so violent that it took his breath away and he had to stop everything, moving, thinking, breathing, everything and try to relax enough for it to go away.

He had no idea how long it took for him to have the strength to get back to his feet, it was a job that would get more and more difficult as he carried on walking he knew. And those dogs, if they came too close then walking wouldn't be enough, he would have to run. For a moment he stopped as he remembered back to when he had come face to face with the beasts that would chase him.

_"Ah ah, before you go any farther I have to introduce you to my friends, my babies. They are all I have left thanks to your father." Her voice had been full of hatred and she had pulled on the arm she held and he had stopped. Grateful for the chance to catch his breath it had been easy to obey her instructions but as he looked in the direction she indicated he thought his heart would stop._

_The cage had been quite small but inside it had been two chunky medium sized dogs, dogs he recognised all too easily as Pit Bull Terriers. He had a feeling they were banned in __England__, that you weren't allowed to own one or breed them. He wished that was the case here._

_"They are so sweet but so hungry. This one is Blossom and that one is Petal, such pretty names for such pretty babies don't you think?_

_He hadn't answered her, hadn't realised that he was supposed to, and so she had jerked him hitting his battered body against the wall and causing the pain to radiate through him. Then, before he could regain any sort of composure, she had pushed him hard against the bars of the cage and both dogs had rushed him growling and slavering against him through the wires._

_"They have your scent now too, my darling, and of course I have your shirt, this shirt." She had rubbed it against his bleeding back and then placed it just out of reach of the animals who proceeded to bark and hurl themselves towards it as if possessed._

With a deep shudder he pulled himself back to the present, he couldn't think about it, he had to keep moving, but it was so hot, so very hot, _how could he get to the station in time in all this heat?_ Stop it, concentrate, you're not going to the station you're going to that hill, see … that hill over there. That's where you're going. He shook his head and saw the sweat fly off him, causing his back to scream out as the salt droplets hit it. _Water, there would be water at the station; he'd be fine at the station_.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"The Vegas office called through to Beatty and they checked her house. It has a cellar and well, it was obvious he'd been there." Ron stopped speaking. The amount of blood that had been found on the floor and splattered around the walls had been relayed to him over the phone but he felt that it wasn't the type of thing to mention right now.

"So what's happening next? Are they checking for her? She must have places that she goes, people she sees? What about where her brother's buried? Maybe she will go there." Mark looked up and the expression of hope on his face was almost too painful for those who loved him to see.

"Mark, Mando was buried in LA. They notified her but she didn't come collect the body and so it was dealt with by local officials." Cheryl hated to shut the door on another line of enquiry but she had already thought of it and looked in to it.

"What about Denise? Would she know anything about his family? She was gonna marry the guy at one time. Well, before he framed her for murder that is." Jesse looked at Cheryl and saw her look confused and shake her head. "Denise Steiner, the mouth that roared? She was arrested for the murder which got that Mando guy jailed in the end. I did those voices, do you remember? All those cool voices." Jesse smiled for a moment and looked around at his audience and then the smile faltered, "And my mom visited!"

"I'll call her, but from the car. I'll call Denise from the car; we need to get to the airport." Mark was on his feet and ready to leave but he saw Cheryl about to speak and so, reluctantly, he paused.

"Mark, remember, Denise Steiner's personal assistant was just brutally murdered. She may not be the best person to contact."

For a moment Mark seemed to stop completely. "Thank you, I hadn't thought of that. I need to remember that others are suffering too. Thank you, Cheryl." Then the shutters went down, all the feelings were put away for later, and Mark was on the move, out into the hallway and on towards the parking lot with his friends following along behind, all of them praying in their own ways that they would be in time to save his son.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The hill was getting closer_, he knew that the station was on the other side of it, if he could get there then they could call his dad and he could come get him. He knew he shouldn't have come to summer camp but all his friends were going, and he so wanted to be like them._

"Dad … please … please come take me home." He staggered a little as he spoke and shook his head. _Where were all the other guys? They said that there was a water hole around here some place. He must have gotten lost. It would be over the next ridge, he was sure about that._

"I'm … I'm sorry, Dad. I'll come again next year … I'll be ready then." He had been walking for such a long time. Ten o'clock, he remembered someone saying at ten o'clock that they had to be going. The sun was too high for ten; it had been up and was on its way down it must be nearer two. He'd just check his watch. Where was his watch? His dad had bought that for him, when he had his superman outfit. It was red and blue and matched it.

"Dad … I'm sorry, I … I lost my watch … I'll go look for it. Over that hill. I'll go look for it over that hill." He stumbled again, he was so thirsty and so tired, maybe he could sit down, just for a little while and drink his soda. He let his legs buckle underneath him and then carefully opening the bottle he drank every last drop.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"I can get in touch with someone, I know people, they will have a private plane. We need a private plane." Mark was talking to no one in particular but they were all listening to him and each of them was trying to work out the best way to help.

"Mark, I have a plane waiting for us. As soon as I told my bosses that this Arriaga woman had crossed the state line the case was officially mine." Selfishly he had felt relieved, grateful to her that by doing that one thing she had saved him from having to explain why he had removed himself from a top secret assignment to go running off after a personal acquaintance. Now though, now that he had information none of the others had, he just felt desperately worried for probably the only man he would call a true friend.

Mark hadn't answered; words were getting to be too much to think about. Inside his head all he could see were pictures, pictures of his son throughout his life. He remembered holding him in both hands as he spoke to him for almost the first time. Katherine had filmed it and even a month later they had marvelled at how much he'd grown. Well, he'd grown a lot more since then. He remembered how Carol had leant on her brother so much and how Steve had been more than happy to let her do it. Sure he'd complained and grouched about it but anyone who dared step out of line where she was concerned had better look out.

He remembered watching him go off to war, to fight in a foreign land in a conflict which was reviled at home and probably in other places as well. He had been so proud of him and he knew that Steve had been proud too; proud to serve the country he loved. Mark had often wondered if he hadn't had to go whether he would have joined the LAPD. The continuance of a job where he was fighting for the little guy had seemed natural to his son, but he had been so worried, so very worried, probably ever since.

There were other times he remembered too. He thought of the superman suit, Katherine had worked so hard at that, he wondered what she would think now, now that you could go into any branch of Toys R Us and buy an outfit off the shelf. It wouldn't have meant so much, even to a six year old boy, Mark knew that.

The memory of the suit made him think of Steve lying in an ICU suite fighting for his life after Gordon Ganza had put a contract out on him. Three bullets they'd taken out of him that day, but they hadn't removed the fight, that had still been strong and Mark prayed that it would get him through his current ordeal. Steve had regained full health that time and he'd worked to free his father from death row. With a shudder Mark pulled himself back to the present, death was a word he couldn't think about, he had to think of good times, happy times. That was the way to go.

"Mark, we're here." The soft voice of Amanda, full of compassion and concern broke into his memories and he turned towards her.

"What? Honey, what did you say?" He started in his seat, jerking his body back to full awareness almost too quickly.

"We're at the airport. Jesse and Ron have gone ahead to make sure everything is ready so that we can take off as soon as possible."

Mark looked around him, he had been so lost in the past that he hadn't realised they had stopped, hadn't noticed that two of his companions had left him to go organise things. He needed to get a grip.

Amanda watched as her friend pulled himself back together both mentally and physically and then, when she was sure he had everything he needed from the car, she locked it and, taking his arm, began the walk to the terminal building.

**. . . . . . . . . . .**

The drink had been warm; he didn't like warm water and had thrown the bottle away in disgust. Climbing to his feet he looked around himself. Where was he? He didn't remember how he got here. Thinking hard for a moment he managed to push all the conflicting thoughts away. He could see a woman with shoulder-length black hair coming towards him as he finished putting the trash outside his apartment at the beach. What had she said to him?

_"Excuse me, are you Steve Sloan? Lieutenant Steve Sloan?" _

_He had put down the final black bag of rubbish and looked around as the voice broke the silence._

_"Yes I am, who wants to know?" He had smiled at the pretty young woman who was opening his back gate._

_"My name is Melosa. You don't know me, but you will." Suddenly there was a gun pointing at him and he took an involuntary step backwards._

_"Please don't move unless I tell you to. I would hate to have to kill you where you stand." The soft American accent had been replaced by a stronger Spanish one and slowly and deliberately the woman moved towards him, the gun never wavering in her hand and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would use it if he didn't do exactly as she said._

Shadow, he had used the word shadow, he needed that. Why did he need that? Turning his head from side to side he looked around. He had been in his back yard, how did he get here? The sun was directly in his eyes now, whatever way he looked it seemed to glare at him. It was so hot, and he hurt so much. Carefully getting to his feet he tried to remember what he had been doing. There were hills one way but not the other. Which way should he go? He didn't think he had the energy to climb so he turned towards the flatter landscape. With that decision made he dropped the stick he had been holding and began to walk.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The flight had been a very tense affair and Jesse had tried, unsuccessfully, to lighten the mood. He knew he was just annoying everyone though and so, in the end, he had retreated into the same silence that everyone else was sharing.

Steve was the best friend he had ever had. He knew that without him he wouldn't be the success he was. He could remember so vividly the day that their whole world had literally exploded around them when Caitlin Sweeney had blown up Community General Hospital. He had come round to find Steve trying to get them out of their prison while his arm, which had been injured when Carter Sweeney had fired a nail gun at it, was bleeding all over the place. Between them and the tight-fistedness of his mother and the way he had to choose oranges, they had gotten out of the small room and into what had once been a main hallway of the hospital. They had talked about how they would like to own a restaurant one day, even joked about doing it when they retired, and then decided if they survived they should seize the moment and do it now rather than wait. If Jesse was honest he hadn't really given it a lot of thought after that.

Then one day, just as the new hospital was beginning to take shape, Steve had told him about BBQ Bob's. He had known then that Steve wasn't just tolerating him because he worked with Mark, but that he must really like him. That had meant more to him than the restaurant or any of the other things which they had shared over the years. Steve, who was everything that he would never be, liked him, and he liked him just as he was.

The voice came over the intercom requesting the passengers to fasten their safety belts because the plane was coming in to land at Beatty. The fact that it didn't have an airport hadn't seemed to be a stumbling point and, as Jesse looked out the window, he could see why. The land was barren, some of it was rocky some sandy but all of it had one thing in common. It was desolate.

The landing wasn't the smoothest he'd ever experienced, but considering that they were about one hundred miles from the nearest airstrip he'd cope. Undoing his belt Jesse stood up and made his way to the exit and as he did so the extreme heat hit and almost knocked him back inside. It was then that he realised just how much danger his friend was in.

**A/N** There really is a place called Beatty in Nevada, but it isn't quite like I have painted it. I plead artistic license and hope its inhabitants will forgive me. Tracy.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

The temperature on the gauge by the general store said it was 98 degrees. Amanda didn't think that she had ever been quite so hot at a little after four in the afternoon. The sun seemed to be a totally different creature here than it was in California, even though they weren't that far from the state line.

The general store was the largest building they had seen in Beatty so far. It had two gas pumps out front and a large fan inside. Mark and Ron were talking to the owner, making enquiries about Melosa Arriaga and she knew that before long one of her friends would lose his temper and begin to shout. They needed to go see the house, but without the local sheriff they had no idea how to get there. He had been called to a barn fire because he was also the local fire chief and apparently there was no telling how long he would be.

In the end it was Ron who had gotten angry first and, using all his self-control, had taken out his FBI ID and insisted that someone direct him to the house he needed to visit.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

Something told him that moving away from the hills was a mistake. But he hurt so much that climbing things wasn't an idea he wanted to pursue. His chest was agony now every time he breathed, the uneven terrain was jolting his shoulder and thinking was becoming an art form. Suddenly though he was on high alert. A sound, in this totally barren and silent world, he had heard a sound.

He whirled round jolting and jarring every part of him, but he had to find out where the noise was coming from. As he stopped moving he heard a distinctive rattle and then saw the head of a snake rise up before him. He took a step backwards without looking and his left foot slid away from him as the sand disappeared down a sudden slope and he rolled and bounced all the way until the ground hit him at the bottom.

**. . . . . . . . . . .**

One of these days he was sure he would get Sloan back for the ants. He hadn't thought about it in a while but now, as he walked along a dusty Nevada road, Ron was back in the barn in his mind, with red fire ants climbing up his leg and Steve just out of reach apparently enjoying every moment. Steve had kept telling him how he wouldn't be able to think about anything other than those darn ants crawling up his leg while he had a bomb trigger underneath his shoe.

Although he wouldn't admit it Ron hoped that people would consider him brave and good at what he did, but those minutes, which had seemed like hours, standing totally still, unable to move, he had been neither. With hindsight he'd realised that his friend was just as scared as he was, but the way Steve had dealt with the situation had helped him to stay calm himself. Well, apart from those ants and when Sloan had come up to him with the metal shield making out that the bomb disposal guys thought they had disarmed it but weren't sure. Then he had pushed him backwards into the animal stalls. He had annoyed himself by crying out and seen the look of enjoyment on Steve's face. He'd pretty much hated him then but one day, one day, he would get even. For a moment his face clouded over. He had to find him first, then he could get even.

Slowing to a halt Ron began to check the piece of paper in his hand and he realised that they had arrived.

Ron wasn't sure if it was because he knew something bad had happened in the house or not but he thought it looked like the kind of place that it could happen. He shook his head; too much time with the Sloans was causing him to become fanciful.

The walk from the store had taken them about ten minutes and now they were definitely on the outskirts of town. Ron knew that his friend's screams wouldn't have been heard this far out, and he was sure, however courageous and stoic the man was, there would definitely have been screams. "This is it. According to Kyle Hunter in the store, Melosa, who clearly doesn't live up to her name, rented the place about a month ago."

"How do you mean?" Jesse had stopped and was leaning back against the railings in front of the house. He was wearing pale blue pants and a white cotton shirt but still he was sweltering.

"Her name, which is Spanish, means gentle and sweet." Ron looked a little embarrassed as he finished speaking.

"However do you know that?" Amanda was amazed, but then this gentle giant often did that to her.

"Umm, Kyle told me." Ron pulled open the gate and hurried up the pathway to cover his confusion and so didn't see the look of love that Amanda directed his way.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

He hadn't thought that it was possible to hurt any more than he had before but now, now that he had finally stopped moving, he knew he had been sadly mistaken.

He also knew that he had to get to his feet, that lying here, wherever here was, would do even more harm than good and so, carefully, he began working out which bits of him hurt the least so that he could use them to help him stand.

_He must be on the beach there was so much sand, but where was the house?_ "Dad … Dad, I need … need you to help me." He was overcome by a sudden bout of coughing and by the time he had finished he felt sure his chest was going to explode. He saw blood stain the ground in front of him and again his worry increased. "Please … please come find me … Mom?" _He knew that was wrong, his mom couldn't come, she was busy somewhere, at the hospital, he knew she spent a lot of her days at the hospital._

Finally he got to his knees, the world swam around him and he steadied himself with his left hand. His chest was tight now, he could feel his heart beating hard and fast and he thought he was going to be sick. _The stone was cool on his head, he should put his head on the stone but it had gone, all the stone had gone, and he was on the beach, if he waited on the beach his dad would find him. That's what he would do; he would wait for his dad._

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The house was just a normal house. Mark wasn't sure what it was that he'd expected but it looked like any house you would find in a small desert town. Inside the rooms were small; the entranceway went right into the living room where there was a sofa with a soft light brown throw with an Indian motif across the back. The rug looked as if it had Indian designs on it too and there was also a dark brown slightly battered leather easy chair. A TV was situated in the corner so that the bright glare from outside didn't hit the screen. It was on top of a cabinet of some kind and he moved across and opened the two doors and looked inside.

Ron had been leafing through a pile of mail which he had picked up off the mat. It had a rack on the mantle above the fireplace, although what anyone would want with a fireplace out here he couldn't guess. "Mark, that's where Steve's personal stuff, or some of it, was found," he pointed to the inside shelf of the entertainment center as he spoke putting the mail where it belonged at the same time. "His empty holster was there and next to it was the wallet that had his ID in it. His cuffs were in here too. They've all been taken as evidence." Ron decided not to let Mark know that the cuffs had been used and covered with blood because he knew that it was Steve's.

"Where is she? Do you think that she'll come back?" Jesse looked around him; suddenly he had a very bad feeling that they were being watched.

"No, not necessarily, Jess. Maybe she knew that in the end we would put two and two together and stop making five. That we would find the link. Jennifer's body would have been found sooner if her cleaning lady hadn't been on vacation for a week. She'd realise that once we knew about her that things would start to fall into place." Mark had spoken for a lot longer than he had in days and Jesse just nodded his head.

"Yeah, I guess. So now what do we do?"

"We do just as we would if we were helping Steve in one of his investigations, the fact that he isn't here makes no difference. Usually we find clues, this time we'll find him." Mark tried to be as upbeat and businesslike as usual but inside of him was the knowledge that every second that passed was a second that his son most likely didn't have to spare.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

He had been waiting a long time. Perhaps he was in the wrong place. Maybe he should wait on the stones and not the sand. _His dad could park the car easier there_. Nodding his head and then retching he stopped thinking until his stomach quietened down and then, when it did, tried to re-group. His mind was so fuzzy, thoughts kept coming into his mind but they didn't seem to belong to each other. His wrist had begun to sting when he fell over in the sand and now he could see that it had bruises and cuts on it. The wrist enveloped in the pants leg also stung, but it was more of a feeling of friction, or rubbing. For a moment his mind cleared and he remembered where he got some of the pain from.

_"If you would just move inside your house, Lieutenant, there are a few things I need you to collect for me." _

_He had done as he was told, he could see people on the sand and he didn't want to endanger anyone by acting foolishly. Unfortunately, although he could see them, it didn't appear that they could see him and so no one noticed that he was being held at gun-point._

_"I don't have anything of any value. What is it that you want?" Strike up a dialogue, that's what all the hostage manuals told you and so he had begun talking only to feel the muzzle of the gun dig sharply into the back of his neck._

_"What I don't want is conversation, get inside and shut up!" He had complied; there was something in her voice which told him that to do otherwise would be a big mistake._

_His apartment had looked suddenly small as the two of them stood inside the glass doors. The gun had been moved slightly from his neck but he was still very conscious of its presence there._

_"Where are the tools of your trade?"_

_"What?" He tried to turn to see the woman who held him so easily but again the gun moved and this time he heard her cock the hammer in readiness for use._

_"I want your gun, your badge, your cuffs and phone and I want them now. You tell me where they are and we will get them together. Play games with me and your father will find your head splattered around the room."_

_That had done it for him, the mention of his dad stopped any thoughts of trying to overpower this woman and he had led her to his bedroom where she had taken the gun, its holster as well as his ID and his cell phone and put them into the bag she wore around her waist. The cuffs she had held in her hands for a moment and then with the gun still pointed at him she had spoken again. "Put one of these around your wrist."_

_"Why?"_

_"No questions just do it." He knew that the gun was loaded and ready to go off and so he had done as she said. He had clicked the cuff shut on about the second or third notch so that it fell down over the widest part of his hand._

_"Put your arms behind your back." Again it was a command that had to be obeyed and he had done so. The second cuff had clicked into place and then suddenly both of them had been tightened excruciatingly and it had been all he could do to stop himself from crying out._

_"If anyone asks I am arresting you, Lieutenant. But they won't. You have the bonus of a very private front yard. We will be long gone before anyone misses you."_

_"No. You're wrong. My dad and my friends they'll miss me almost right away."_

_She had just smiled and then, changing her voice, had begun to speak. "Is that __Community General__Hospital__? Oh good. Um, I need to leave a message for Doctor Sloan from his son, Steve. He has been offered a couple of day's vacation so we are going to go off just the two of us. He'll be back after the weekend. Could you pass that on? You could? Thank you so much." She had smiled and then her voice had become normal again. "It was so straightforward and then the police station, in a way that was even easier."_

_"Why are you doing this?" He had been in the rear of his own truck by now, forced down between the front and back seats his arms held at an almost impossible angle._

_"Because I can.__ Don't you want to know what I said to the nice man on the desk at your precinct? You do? Well if you insist." Again the voice changed. "Is that __North Hollywood__? Oh good, I'm phoning on behalf of my boyfriend, Steve Sloan. He's a lieutenant in Homicide. He must have eaten something bad last night because he is just so sick. I don't know that he will be back tomorrow, maybe a couple more days than that" She paused and then in her voice changed once more. "It was that simple."_

_He hadn't spoken, not because he had nothing to say, he did, plenty, but because he knew that none of it would do any good._

The heat beat down on him and the scene in his mind faded away. He had been kidnapped, tortured, there was no other word for it, and now he was fighting for his life. His mind was suddenly totally clear, he knew exactly where he was and why. He also knew that he was walking in the wrong direction, that he had turned away from the sanctuary he had been seeking and now it was farther away than ever.

The mixture of hunger, thirst and pain would, he knew, cloud his mind again before long and he needed to have a plan that he could follow easily by then. Standing up very carefully he looked around him. He only had one eye that was actually working and so the vision splay was greatly reduced. Slowly though he began to see something. He wasn't sure what it was but he was positive that in the distance he could see a structure of some kind. He stopped looking as his mind finally filled in another piece of the puzzle. He remembered who she was. Melosa, he had known that since she'd pulled a gun on him. Arriaga, that was her surname, and she had told him that as they had pulled away from his prison in her jeep.

_"You still have no idea who I am, do you, Lieutenant?"_

_"No … just my jai … jailer."__ He tried again to see a likeness with anyone that he knew, but whether it was his condition or maybe he was just being slow, he couldn't do it._

_"My brother was called Mando Arriaga and he worked for Denise Steiner. Your father took over her show and ruined my life."_

_Now he remembered. Mando had framed the woman he loved for the murder of the person who had sent his family back to __Mexico__. "He … he was … guilty … he got what … he deserved." The jeep screeched to a halt and he braced himself for what was to come._

_Instead of the beating he expected though she just looked at him and laughed. "What would your father think if he could see you now?"_

_He couldn't answer, he was too ashamed of himself, and however much he wanted and needed his dad he was glad he couldn't see him this way._

Again the scene faded and he took a moment to try and analyse his situation. He knew that his dad would tell him to take it easy, keep it at a slow and steady pace but get to shade as soon as he could. His injuries though didn't help his position at all. His shoulder was so painful that he had to consciously put it out of his mind. He didn't think his ribs had punctured his lung when he rolled down the sandbank but the blood he was coughing up concerned him, and the throbbing from his back told him that the lacerations there were already infected. The feelings of nausea were beginning to return and he knew that without food or more importantly liquid soon it wouldn't matter where he was because he would be dead.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The kitchen, bedrooms and bathroom were still waiting to be searched but all of them knew that the cellar was where they had to go. They also knew that it was a crime scene and although it had been dealt with they still needed to be careful. The stairs leading down were cut out of the stone which was everywhere in Beatty. Carefully they made their way down holding on to the rope banister which guided their way.

The room was the size of the house and had been split by partial partitions into smaller areas. The first of these had a metal enclosure in it which had obviously housed dogs at one time.

Mark looked at the cage but didn't say a word. Instead he moved on into the main area of the cellar and then staggered back against Jesse.

"Mark, steady." His young friend put a comforting arm around him and together they surveyed the scene.

"My God, Jesse, look at it. Look what she must have done to him."

The room was reasonably large and one half of it was just plain stone with some ornate old fashioned chairs and a table in it. The other half was like a medieval torture chamber.

There were manacles coming out of the wall near to the ground which were obviously for feet and then further up for arms but they weren't close together, if you were put in them you would be totally vulnerable to any attack.

"I thought … I thought … he is so strong, so fit, but it wouldn't have helped … it wouldn't have helped at all." Mark looked around him, the blood on the walls belonged to his son and he had worked with the police long enough to be able to read the splatter patterns. Before he spoke though he turned to Amanda for confirmation and then let her speak instead.

"I would say that the pattern of the splatters shows that he was hit with something. The blood was forced out in lines so the something would be straight."

"Like a riding crop." Ron didn't really want to mention it but he knew that the information he had was different to that which had been given to the three people with him.

"Yes, like a riding crop … he was hit with a riding crop?" Amanda's eyes filled with tears as she realised Ron hadn't asked a question and she saw him nod his head. Amanda had ridden a lot when she had been growing up and had hated to use a whip on a horse. The pain that it felt through its thick hide had been abhorrent to her and now she tried to pull her mind away from the agony which must have been inflicted on her friend.

She had known Steve for almost all her adult life. He had been there for her whenever she needed him and through the years that had been quite often.

Amanda remembered the time when she had been surfing on line and seen a woman killed. He had been so kind, so helpful and then, when another person had been murdered right there in front of both of them, well, she didn't think that she would have wanted anyone other than him to be the one there with her to hold her tight and help her through the ordeal.

CJ and Dion loved him and enjoyed his company too. He would deny that he was any good with young kids but he was wonderful with them. They would get him back, they had to.

"Mark, the cages had dogs in them, and our crime scene guys found part of a shirt here, an ordinary checked one … it had been ripped to shreds. There was blood on it which matched that from the walls."

"She set dogs on him?" Mark was ashen as he considered the possibility of his son being attacked in that way. "You saw those pictures how could she do that when he was already so weak, so badly hurt?" He paused but then asked another question. "Where would she do that?"

"Death Valley." Jesse spoke quietly, he wasn't sure where the words came from but he knew he was correct.

"What?" Ron had been looking at the manacles on the wall. There was blood on them too and he knew that his friend's wrists would be cut and bleeding just to add to the other injuries he had.

"If she wanted to set her dogs on him she would take him to Death Valley." His certainty rose each time he said it. Steve had been kidnapped and tortured. What better way to finish him off than to dump him in the desert and then hunt him down?

"Then we have to get ourselves a vehicle and go find him." Mark spoke as if he was about to head off in the direction of the stairs but he didn't actually move a muscle.

"I don't know if there's a rent-a-car place in Beatty but the guy at the general store had a truck, I'm sure we could borrow that." Ron thought for a moment; he had a feeling that Travis was right about what happened, even though there was no actual proof. He knew that both Steve and Mark put a great deal of store by what he said and this time he did too. Ron looked at the older man and realised just how much the whole ordeal was taking out of him. They had to move but he was worried about Mark and just how much more he could deal with. "The helicopter can get here in about twenty minutes, I'll get that organised too."

"Mark? Did you hear Ron? We can use the truck from the store and the chopper." Amanda placed her hand on Mark's arm and he seemed to jerk back to reality.

"Yes, yes, borrow the truck. Steve's truck is missing. We need to find his truck, he loves it. He'll want it back." Amanda and Jesse shared a look of horror as Mark seemed to get stuck in the words unable to find a way out.

"Mark, let's go back to the store. It'll be cooler now. We can stock up on water and food and go find Steve." Jesse decided that the best thing was to ignore what his friend had just said and try to take a little control of the situation himself. Carefully he guided him towards the stairs and let him take the lead followed by Amanda and then he and Ron went after that both men casting an eye back over the prison as they did so.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The ground underfoot had gradually changed back to the rock he remembered from before. But he was having trouble focussing on what he was supposed to do. One foot in front of the other. He remembered that. His feet were aching and oh so hot but he knew he had to keep walking. The small building was still in front of him but now he could see something else too. He could see the hills again, the hills that he had been going towards. What was it that had been on the other side? He had been aiming for something but what was it? Why couldn't he remember? If he couldn't remember how would he know if he found it? How would he know if he had arrived where he was supposed to be? With a sudden sob he found himself on his knees and his energy deserted him as his tears began to flow.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The journey out of the house had been halted while Ron put a call through to the general store to make sure that the truck would be available. Once that had been ascertained Jesse opened the front door and let the three others pass through before him. He had just turned from making sure that it was closed if not locked when a flash of metal caught his eye followed by a sharp retort and to his horror he saw Mark fall to the ground blood spreading rapidly across his chest.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

For a moment there was just horrified silence as Jesse, Amanda and Ron watched Mark's lifeblood seep away but then, almost as if joined in some way, they all moved as one.

"Mark!" Amanda screamed out the name of her oldest and wisest friend, barely noticing as Ron drew his gun and took up a protective stance.

"Amanda, Jesse, get down!" The pause had been only a fraction of a second but still Ron was furious with himself for not calling out sooner. The area was totally deserted, the only unnatural sound that of the gradually fading echo of the gun retort.

For a moment they did as they were told but then Jesse, fearful for his friend's life, moved around so that he could open Mark's shirt and assess the damage.

"Oh, God." The two words were almost forced from him as he saw a vicious wound, pouring blood from the body of one of his closest friends. Jesse looked around for his medical bag, brought with him for Steve and, seeing it lying on the path, where he had dropped it as the gun went off, he called out, "Amanda, I need my stuff." As soon as he knew Amanda understood him he undid his shirt and took it off, then he rolled it up and gently placed it underneath Mark's head.

Ron had made his way across the street to where he was pretty sure the gunshot had come from. There were two houses there, larger than the one Arriaga had rented, and both of them looked lived in. As he made his way carefully towards the driveway of the first house he heard the roar of an engine and suddenly a jeep flew towards him.

"Ron!" Again Amanda screamed out a name, this time that of the man she loved. She had just given Jesse his bag and turned to see where the tall, dependable FBI Agent was when she saw him hurl himself out of the way of a fast moving vehicle before rolling out into the street and firing off at least four shots.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

It was the agony of the dry heaving sobs which finally stopped the tears and caused him to collapse onto the hard stone beneath him. The pain only increased as he did so, but he didn't have the energy to move in any way to improve his situation.

The entire world around him was silent. He longed for noise, any type of noise, to show that he wasn't alone, but none came. Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time, he was able to think about resuming his journey, but first he had to get up and that was far easier said than done. He knew that taking a deep breath to help him on his way was out of the question and so, instead, he tried to empty his lungs and relax. Then, carefully placing his left hand on the warm stone, he raised that side of his body and moved one knee up towards his waist. Once he had done that he was able to do the same with the right leg but then he was exhausted again and as he rested his head on the ground he felt the heat of the late afternoon sun beat down upon his back, causing the wounds there to split and crack, increasing the pain and making him finally cry out. "Oh, God, please … please help me."

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The things in Jesse's bag weren't ideal to treat a gunshot wound, especially not one as serious as this looked. He hooked his stethoscope into his ears and began to assess Mark's breathing.

It was laboured, but still reasonably steady and his own breathing relaxed a little as Jesse realised that wherever the bullet had gone it wasn't into a lung. "Ok, Mark, that's one for the good guys. Now, let's see what else we have going for us." He was feeling for a pulse as he spoke and counting internally almost without realising it. The pulse wasn't anywhere near as strong as he would like it to be and Jesse knew that the possibility of his friend going into hypovolemic shock was huge.

He took one of the large pads from his doctor's bag and carefully put it over the wound in Mark's chest. Amanda, seeing what he was doing, placed a hand over the top of it and began applying direct pressure.

"Ron! I need that chopper and I need it now!" Jesse didn't even look up and so had no idea what else was happening. He had heard a vehicle but it had been a secondary occurrence to his main objective; keeping Mark alive. Steve would never ever forgive him if he let him die.

"Amanda, I have to find out if the bullet is still inside of him." Jesse didn't need to say anything else. His friend tore her eyes away from her view of Ron and forced them back towards that of her two friends. She then, very carefully, rested her hands so that she could slide them underneath Mark's body when Jesse began to raise it. He knelt the other side of their friend and placed one hand on his arm just below shoulder level and the other one by his elbow and then gently, talking softly all the time, he began his task.

"Mark, this is gonna hurt, but I have to know if you are hiding that bullet. I'll be as quick as I can." He stopped talking and watched as Amanda took some of the weight and then looked at the ground which had been suddenly opened to her view.

"No, nothing. Sorry."

"Dammit." Jesse wasn't sure if he was sorry or glad. If the bullet was still in there then Mark would need to be operated on to remove it, if it had gone right through him then there would have been two bullet holes to deal with right now and he would still have required surgery. Either way it wasn't a good situation.

Ron came back in through the gate, trying to brush some of the dust off of his suit as he did so, and stared down at the man whom he admired greatly. "I called; it's on its way." He put his cell phone back into his pocket and then looked at Amanda and Jesse. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Get back to the general store and get a vehicle. Amanda will need to go with Mark to the nearest hospital, but you and I have got to go find Steve." Jesse was carefully packing the wound as he spoke before he re-applied the pressure his friend needed to keep him alive. He didn't want his patient to lose any more blood than was absolutely necessary and right now one more drop was more than that.

"Right. I'll come back here and pick you up. Amanda." He didn't need to say anything else. She had already gently laid her friend back on the ground and made sure that his head was, once again, resting on Jesse's shirt. She looked to see if Jesse was ok on his own for a moment, and realising that he was working steadily and almost automatically to keep Mark alive Amanda got to her feet and, taking Ron by the hand, moved a little way away with him, but not so far that she couldn't still see Mark and Jesse and feel that she was close enough to help them.

"Is that alright?" Ron looked at her as he spoke and saw the strain in her beautiful brown eyes. Maybe it would be better if she was away from here. Especially if they found Sloan the way he had a feeling they might find him. But to lose both of them in such a short space of time … no, he couldn't think that way, Jesse, Mark, Amanda, Steve, all of them were optimists, even in the direst of circumstances that optimism had pulled them through. Hell, he'd even followed Steve into a bombed out building relying on that optimism alone to convince him that he would find Amanda still alive, it had worked then, it had to work now. He finished his meanderings to discover that she was looking quizzically at him.

"Is what alright?"

"That you go with Mark." Ron suddenly needed to know that she was comfortable with what she was going to be doing before he could let her go.

"Yes. Steve would want me to. He would want Jesse to operate too, but that can't be, not this time. I'll go with him, that way …" She closed her eyes for a second, "That way he will have someone who … someone who loves him … with him if ... he … if Steve …" For a moment she couldn't continue.

"Hey," Ron gently placed a finger under her chin and raised her face to look at him. "Steve has to get his stubbornness and thick skin from somewhere. They'll both be fine." He carefully wiped away a tear that had escaped and then he placed his lips over hers and kissed her so tenderly that it was almost as if she was dreaming.

"Take care of yourself, I need you back." Amanda pulled herself together mentally and then, knowing that Jesse would understand, and Mark too, she kissed him once more before watching him walk off down the path and out onto the road where he broke into a jog and headed off in the direction of the store.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The building he had seen was still small, too small to make out, he had to walk faster. But that took energy and he didn't think he could make it that far. He stopped and looked around him. There was no real way to judge distances out here, wherever here was. Even stopping hurt if only because when he stopped he had to start up again. The sun was lower now in the sky but it didn't seem to be making much difference to the temperature. With another burst of sudden clarity he knew that he wasn't in California, that wherever he was the heat was going to be with him all night. Suddenly the small building seemed too far to travel. He carefully raised his left hand to his eyes, trying to cause a small shadow so that he could see around himself a little more clearly. His eye hurt, when he lifted his arm the skin on it split open and hurt, his back hurt, when he breathed his chest hurt, hell everything hurt. The rocks and hilly outcrops seemed a better bet; he could find shade there because as the sun did dip it would cause shadows to fall between them. That decision made, he turned in their direction and, mentally preparing himself for the pain to come, placed one foot in front of the other telling himself as he did so that, that was all it would take to get him to his destination.

**. . . . . . . . . . .**

Melosa wished that she could have stayed where she had been but it wasn't to be. She was a good shot, and had been practicing ever since Mando's death for her moment. If she hadn't killed Mark Sloan then let the landscape take care of him as it was taking care of his son. He would be lucky to survive out here in this godforsaken place.

The arrival of another man with a gun had startled her and she had aimed right for him. He was quick though, Melosa would give him that, and she didn't even want to think about how close to her car the bullets had come.

The dogs had whimpered and cried, not understanding but knowing that they were in danger. If he had hurt her babies, well there would have been another name on her list, even though she had no idea who he was.

Now she had to get back to Sloan. For a moment she felt just a twinge of regret. That woman, Denise Steiner, had said how handsome he was, how she would commit a crime just to have him arrest her. She had been right, he was handsome, devastatingly so. They would have looked real good together. Him, with his California tan, dark blonde hair and blue eyes, and her, with her dark colouring, jet black hair and eyes. Now though, he would be ready for her babies. He'd had longer than she'd planned on his own but there would be a good trail. He had been bleeding when she left him, and Dimi would find him, whichever direction he had taken, her beautiful faithful hound would find him for her.

She pulled a bottle of iced water out of the cooler on the passenger seat and flipped up the lid with one of her long red nails. Then she drank from it until almost half of it was gone before re-capping it and tossing it back into the box it came from. The entrance to the park wasn't that far away now and she didn't want to be prevented from entering. She pulled over to the side of the road and began to prepare herself, pulling her dark hair up and into a band before winding it round and around to form a makeshift bun. Once that was done she ferreted around in a bag in the well of the seat next to her and pulled out a lighter coloured wig. Not too light to look false, but light enough to throw someone off the scent. Realising what she had just thought Melosa put her head back and laughed aloud. The scent! She ran her hand across the soft head of her largest dog and blew him a kiss. Then, picking up the shirt, or what was left of it, she let him sniff at it until he let out a deep bark full of meaning and feeling.

When she had let Sloan out of the basement and placed him in the vehicle she had made sure that he would be in the same area that the dogs would occupy later. That way they were surrounded by his scent the entire time. Once he had been left in his new prison, the one with no walls, no manacles, no bars, just unending terrain, heat and no water, she had stopped about a half mile from the entranceway and run his shirt along the side of the road. Now, as she let the dogs loose, she knew that they would wait for her when the scent went cold. She could then pick them back up, and carry on. In the meantime, anyone checking wouldn't be looking for a brown haired woman with no dogs, just a black haired one with three of them.

**. . . . . . . . . . .**

The time seemed to drag by, the heat was almost unbearable, but he couldn't move him into the shade. Jesse had gone back into the house, thankful that he had been unable to lock the door, and got water for all of them. Amanda still looked as if she was relaxing on a cool California day. Not a hair was out of place and even the dust from the pathway seemed to have disappeared from the knees of her light brown pants.

They had drunk their fill and then carefully sponged Mark's face, letting just a little of the water drip onto his lips. Once again he began to check Mark's vital signs and as he did so he let out a sigh.

"He's getting worse isn't he?" Amanda's voice almost cracked as she spoke and she saw Jesse nod.

"Yeah. Amanda, what am I gonna do if he …" He stopped as Amanda gently touched his hand but never for a moment letting up on the pressure she was applying to her friend's wound.

"Shhh, he won't. Ron promised." She said it with such certainty, such fierce loyalty that, even though the FBI Agent had no specialised medical training to speak of, somehow it made all the difference, all the difference in the world.

As Jesse looked back down at his friend he realised that his breathing had gotten fainter and he felt his pulse, that too was weakening. He was just about to tell Amanda when he heard it, in the distance at first, but then gradually getting louder and louder, the sound of a helicopter. Jesse just hoped that it wasn't too little too late.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The rocks were definitely getting nearer, there was no doubt now that if he looked up at them they were bigger, more defined than they had been just a little while before. He, though, was getting weaker and weaker. His lips were cracked and swollen, his tongue felt far too large for his mouth and he was no longer sweating. That, he knew, was a worry. The wound in his stomach which had seemed to disappear amidst all the other agonising injuries had begun to throb as he'd slipped on a small slope and crashed to the ground, jarring every bone in his body, including those which felt as if they couldn't take any more of anything.

As he looked down at his abdomen now he could see that, as well as the whole of his upper body being a very vivid red and with cuts from a scalpel across it, the wound, not that big in size, was oozing, and the liquid, which should be either clear or red, was neither but instead a yellowy, reasonably thick substance. He guessed that until he had hit it the pus had remained beneath the surface, gradually increasing in volume and taking a hold of that part of his body. Maybe it was just as well he had burst it open and he gingerly touched it, surprised both at the heat emanating from it and the pain just a fingertip could cause.

Gasping for air reminded him that even breathing was a luxury. The fall had increased the pain he felt in his chest, and he wasn't sure that he could actually survive another tumble, or at least not be able to get up and carry on should he suffer one.

For a moment all of his resolve, his clarity of mind deserted him. He felt as if he was unable to make a rational decision and that even if the decision was rational he wouldn't realise it. Again the indecision and anxiety arose within him. Should he be going in this direction? Maybe the other way was just as good. NO! The word, although not spoken surprised him. He had changed direction once already and it had cost him time. If he hadn't done that then right now he would be sitting on the rocks watching the sun going down and waiting for his dad to find him. Instead he was still walking, still hurting and still afraid.

He paused for a moment, the anxiety winning him over just a little and turned awkwardly so that he could look back the way he had come. As he did so he saw the sunlight reflect off a car windshield and for some reason his fear rose to new levels.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The helicopter had landed, stirring up so much dust that Jesse was sure when it took off again there would be a totally bare piece of ground where it had been. The two men who had jumped out as soon as it touched down looked like Ron, only white. The suits, the shades even the phones were all the same.

"This isn't a medivac chopper." The closer of the two agents spoke to Jesse.

"We know that. But you are the best we have right now and he needs to get to the nearest hospital. Doctor Bentley will be going back with you. I'll wait here for Agent Wagner."

To their delight and surprise, as they spoke, a stretcher was unloaded from the helicopter and then very carefully, and as gently as they could, Jesse and Amanda laid Mark onto it. For a second Jesse took the hand of his friend and held it tightly knowing that there was a chance that he would never get the opportunity to do so again and praying he was wrong.

"Jesse, I'll stay in touch. I have my cell and I'll make sure that I find some place where I can call from. You've done all that you could do in this situation. It's only a half hour since he was shot. He will be ok." She smiled and then took Jesse's hand into her own as he finally let Mark's arm fall back onto the stretcher.

"I hope so. Tell him … tell …" He stopped. What did he want her to tell Mark Sloan? That he was sorry that he hadn't been in front of him so the bullet had hit him? That he was glad he was still alive, but it had been more by luck than judgement? That Steve was still out there but they would find him. No, what he really wanted her to say was _don't you dare die, Mark, I need you_, but he knew she couldn't so he just shook his head. "Tell him I said hi."

Amanda leant over and kissed Jesse gently on the cheek. She had seen the emotion as it washed across his face and knew the terrible feelings he was trying to chase away. She was doing the same thing herself. There was no way that she could tell her children that both Uncle Steve and Grandpa Mark had died and so there was no way that it was gonna happen.

With a final look at the small, non-descript house which had caused them all so much misery Amanda climbed aboard the helicopter and took the set of headphones which one of the FBI agents handed to her. As she carefully put them on she looked down, first at Jesse as the rotor blades mussed up his hair even more, and then at Mark, an oxygen mask now over his face, and hoped that time would be on their side.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

There was a car following him. But how? Nobody knew he was here. He didn't know he was here because he didn't know where here was. Stop it. Those thoughts just confuse you and you're confused enough already. His feet faltered on the stone and again he had to stop as both his mind and his body rebelled. A wave of nausea fought its way to the surface, making him gag and then cough, the blood splashing on his feet, pain causing his ribs to protest and at the same time his vision blurred and for a moment he could see nothing clearly.

He staggered forward, his arm out in front of him as he blindly felt his way. The car meant danger. He had to keep moving, but his body was telling him that there was no way it could keep taking those steps, those one step at a time steps, that he had been taking up 'til now. He pressed his fingers to his temples and tried to clear his mind. Gradually he felt that he might at least be able to see where he was going and so he looked up.

The rocky hills were suddenly there, just in front of him. They must have crept up on him because he knew that they were now easily accessible. As this knowledge buoyed him the silence of the early evening was split as a succession of barks reached his ears.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Jesse had stood at the gateway to the house for about two minutes before the enforced inactivity got to him and he started back the way he'd come a little over ninety minutes before.

He had no idea what the temperature was but he knew that he was lucky. He had his shirt back, although already he could feel his skin hot and uncomfortable beneath its protective layer. He also had water, two large bottles of the stuff; Steve, he was sure, wasn't in such a fortunate position.

Ron had the forethought to call him from the general store to ask what type of supplies he should pick up. Jesse, shouting above the noise of the chopper as it took Mark and Amanda away, had told him to get all the liquids he could. Water, as well as sports drinks, things supplemented with electrolytes. He also thought to check if Ron could get, amongst other things, some of the small, battery-operated, hand-held fans and see if the store sold clothes. A shirt, some pants and a couple of hats. He didn't know what Ron would be able to get but he had a feeling that anything would probably be useful.

A car whizzed past him as he made his way along the road and he was sure that he saw a sheriff's uniform on one of the occupants. A minute or two later another one went past him, this time it slowed, just a little bit, and Jesse knew that the man closest to the sidewalk would recognise him again by the way he had stared.

The noise of a helicopter above him startled Jesse; he looked wildly about and almost sent himself spiralling into the street right in front of the vehicle that Ron was driving. It screeched to a halt and the passenger side door flew open.

"Jeez, Travis, one of these days you are gonna kill yourself. Get in the truck!" The words were almost spat out and Jesse prepared himself for a roasting as he did as he was told, but no sooner had he closed the door than Ron floored the accelerator pedal and followed the others.

Once they were back in the speeding convoy Ron turned to his companion, "I've got three cars entering the national park this way, they left twenty minutes ago, two search and rescue helicopters are out and there are three other vehicles going in on various popular routes. We're picking up a chopper on the outskirts of town."

"Wow! You Fed's sure move fast when you have to, huh? And I'm betting that you were the one responsible for a stretcher and oxygen supply on an ordinary 'copter."

"Well, yeah, I figured they had them available and we needed 'em. Was I right?"

"You might just have saved his life, or at least given him the chance to have it saved." Jesse was smiling now, enormously cheered by the news that Ron gave him. Finally things were moving, and better than that, he was moving with them.

**. . . . . . . . . . **

The sound of the dogs had frozen him to the spot and for a moment he hadn't known what to do next. This wasn't the right place for dogs. They would be hungry, thirsty. He didn't know why but he knew they were following him. He wished he had food and water maybe that way they would stay and help him out. Protect him.

No, that wasn't right … They were after him ... Someone was after him and they had dogs ... He didn't like dogs … and usually they didn't like him much either … _Bob_ … _he'd had a dog called Bob_ … His thoughts were getting difficult to control, what had he been thinking about …? _Dogs … Bob … They hadn't had him for long, just a day or two while Jesse found him a new home, but he'd been a cool dog._

_Not very fast, and his ears would get burnt on the hot stones … Bob's … BBQ … Did Bob like BBQ …? _Why was he here …? What was he doing? He was going somewhere … Over the hill … that was it. He was going over the hill because … no, he didn't know … yes he did. He was going over the hill because … because the person with the dogs was hunting for him and he couldn't be found. That was it! He'd finally remembered ... He had to keep himself out of sight and get away from the person with the dogs. He caught his breath and began to cough. The sound of it echoed and the pain it caused made him stop walking and his feet throbbed and burnt as he stood still. The phlegm had blood in it … it always had blood in it now.

His world was quiet again even the faint sound of barking seemed to have stopped; it had been quiet ever since he'd arrived … except for that snake. He shivered. The snake hadn't been cool. He didn't like snakes either, in fact he hated snakes. All the time he was thinking he was climbing … why was he climbing? The terrain had begun to rise and he was rising with it … It was hot, so why wasn't he sweating? He knew that he had cuts on his back, deep painful cuts which hurt real bad. Earlier, when he had been on the sand, the sweat had made them hurt even more, but that had stopped. _He would ask his dad when he met him on the other side of the hill_ … _He'd know, he knew everything. _He would even know where he was, even though he had no idea himself.

Suddenly his ears pricked up, he could hear the dogs again and knew they were getting nearer, but he could hear another sound. He thought it was a helicopter, and it was coming closer and closer. He had to get away from it. If they could see him then the dogs would see him … she would see him … Melosa would find him and Melosa wanted to kill his dad … His dad was on the other side of the hill and he couldn't let him be killed.

He was quite high up now, the air was thinner … or maybe he was just out of condition. He staggered as he went to take the next step and his left arm banged against the stone and he paused for a moment to rest his head against it but it wasn't cool as he had hoped but warm, hot even and it made his head throb even more than his feet. He couldn't remember ever feeling this weak before ... He couldn't even walk in a straight line. He had to get away from the chopper … from the car … from the dogs ... had to save his dad. He carefully and painfully took another three steps up the slope and saw that the rocks to one side went round in a curve in front of him and as he turned the corner he realised that he was at a dead end.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"Ok, don't get too close, but make sure that you keep an eye on him … I wish I could tell you, light in colour but it was dusty, it might even have been white once … Ok, just stop any vehicles that don't belong to us. Yeah, me too."

Ron forced his eyes to stare through the glare of the sun, which even at this point in the day was still strong enough to hamper his view. His shades were in his jacket but he didn't have time to fumble for them. He could see a dot in the sky; in fact he could see two dots, which way should the chopper go? Which one was the search and rescue team that had found Steve?

"This is FBI Special Agent Ron Wagner …" Ron paused as the voice of another agent crackled in his earpiece. "What is the heading of the chopper over Sloan's position …? Yeah, I got it, thanks."

"Where, where is he?" Jesse was scanning the area, his sunglasses keeping most of the glare out of his eyes, and wishing that he was in one of the helicopters in front of him.

"The dot to the left."

"How high up is he?"

"About half way but he's in a sort of dead end type of place. The only way he can get out is to come back down or pull himself up to the next level and then carry on climbing. I'm just hoping that he doesn't do that before we get him."

"He won't." Jesse's voice showed not only his certainty but his worry as well.

"You seem awfully confident about that."

"You saw those pictures. He has a dislocated shoulder; his back is covered in wounds from a whip. He won't be able to get up there… I just hope we get to him before the dogs."

**. . . . . . . . . .**

_The helicopters had come again … he had to protect his men, his platoon. The snipers could take out all of them … his fault … it would be his fault. He turned to see where they had gone … where were they? Had he not heard the shots … were they dead? It was his turn … No! He wasn't ready to die … not here; not so far from home … he wanted to be home. He could see them … he had to get away. _

_A hill, he was on a hill … but it was so hot, so dry … why was the air dry? They would see him … he had to get to low ground … go back the way he came. The whirring noise got louder; there was more than one of them. How could he have missed them coming? "Dad … I'm sorry … I'm so sorry." The tears fell down his cheeks as he tried to make his way back the way he had come but his feet wouldn't move, couldn't move ... God help him, he was too scared to move._

_Why did he have to move? It was a nice place; he could stay here and … and what? He tried to take in a lungful of air but the action made him cough and once again he saw the blood tinged spittle hit the ground. Dad … Dad would be here soon. He could rest 'til then … that would be good … he'd rest._ Without thinking he leant back against the rock and the pain from his back caused him to stumble forward and this time it was his right arm which hit the solid surface.

"Arghhh!" There was no echo this time. Just the agonising pain from his shoulder joining forces with the torture of each breath and the fire in his back and feet causing his legs to give way beneath him and he fell, hitting the ground hard.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"Up there." Ron pointed with his sunglasses which he had finally taken out of his pocket.

"Oh great. And I'm only little!" Jesse grumbled a bit and then concentrated again on the scene before him.

"The way up is there, see, the slope starts off quite gently but then after a while it steepens and before you know it you're quite high." Ron considered for a moment. He reckoned that, finally, they were about thirty minutes from Sloan's position on foot. The search and rescue helicopter had backed off a little as Steve had gotten very anxious when he could see and hear it. The pilot had tried to call out that they were friends but Steve had become disoriented and distressed, he had staggered around almost looking as if he was trying to climb back down. It had been decided to call the chopper off until it was needed. The other search team and the 'copter which he and Jesse had travelled in had both gone off to search for Melosa Arriaga and her dogs.

"I would have suggested that one of us went this way and the other tried to get around behind him, but if you're certain that he can't climb to the next level then I'll stay with you." They had been lowered to the ground in slings because it was too risky to be dropped any higher up. Now though, they were about to start their ascent.

"You can count on it. He couldn't do it if his life depended on it. Which I sincerely hope it doesn't." The last sentence was almost a whisper but Ron heard every word and agreed completely.

"Right, follow me." Ron hauled a rucksack over his shoulders and Jesse resisted the temptation to laugh. Somehow a city suit and a backpack didn't quite go together.

The heat was oppressive and Jesse took a swig from his water bottle before beginning to stride out behind his friend and colleague. He felt vaguely ridiculous in his new floppy hat with a triangular bandage tied bandana-like around his neck but he knew that without sun screen, which none of them had thought to bring, it was the best he could do.

The climb at first wasn't too arduous and Jesse realised they were lucky that Steve had walked in this direction. Some of the rocky outcrops rose almost vertically for hundreds of feet, either straight off the ground or after a slow start. This climb however, looked as if it would be one he could complete without having to ask for a hand up from his taller companion.

After fifteen minutes Ron paused to have a drink and looked around wondering how long he would have to wait for Travis to catch up. He didn't want to wait too long, but he needed the water and he also didn't want to find Steve alone if he was as disoriented as the last report had indicated. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the younger man was only a minute or two at most behind him.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

For a while after he hit the ground he had neither the energy nor the inclination to move any part of him, but finally the awkwardness of his position began to cause more pain than he was able to stand and so he began the process of trying to make himself a little more comfortable.

He looked wearily through one nearly completely closed eye and one which was almost shut due to exhaustion and irritation from the sand earlier in his journey and concentrated on which part of him to put through the torment first.

His feet were burning and bleeding but at least at the moment there was no weight on them and slowly he realised that from there upwards only his knees and his head didn't have something major wrong with them. Carefully he placed his forehead on the ground, ignoring the heat which was everywhere, and then focused on pushing on his knees until he was if not on all fours then as close to it as he was going to manage. He pushed his good arm onto the pathway and used it to help him into a kneeling position. From there it was easy, or as easy as anything got right now, to sit on his bottom.

That was better, now if he leant carefully backwards and just rested his head against the rock … ahh, he closed his eyes gratefully and so didn't see the shadow cast by the animal just around the bend in the rock from where he was.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

Draining the entire bottle of water Ron recapped it and reached round to push it back into his backpack.

"Hey, that stuff doesn't just fall out of the sky y'know." Jesse smiled at him and, slowing down to a stop for a moment, wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

Ron said nothing, staring at the doctor instead.

"So, how does the eye in the sky think we're doing? Is it much further?" Jesse took a swig of water himself before pouring some of the liquid over his hair and the bandage-bandana around his neck.

"About the same again as we've already travelled. Sloan must be fitter than I thought." There was an admiration in his voice which wasn't lost on Jesse but he knew Ron was wrong.

"I would imagine he was on automatic pilot. He would know how much danger he was in, his one focus would be to get out of it. That can keep you moving, and fast, however hurt you are."

"Adrenaline?" Ron sounded quizzical.

"Yeah, that and a will to survive. He swapped the water bottle to his left hand and his medical bag to his right as he spoke, making himself ready to begin the ascent once more.

"D'you wanna take the lead for a while? That way we won't scare him when we get there."

Jesse grinned, knowing that he was winning the respect of a man he himself respected greatly, and then nodded his head.

"Well then, Doctor, after you."

**. . . . . . . . . . **

_It was wonderful to be able to sit out on the deck and not have to worry about anything. His dad would be home soon and he'd make the dinner. Already he could taste the 'burgers with everything' and the fries. There would be a salad, of course, but he didn't know if he would have any of that and ice-cream, chocolate chip ice-cream. To drink he would have ice cold beer right out of the refrigerator where there would be another one waiting for him should he want it._

He heard a noise, it sounded like a low throaty growl and slowly he opened his tired, gritty eyes and looked around him. Where was the deck? The sand and the sea? Where had it all gone? For a moment he was disoriented and then he heard the noise again. "Bob? Is that you, Bob? What d'you find on the beach this time?" He tried a smile and held out his hand. The animal moved a little closer and then seemed to take flight. The next moment his world exploded in pain.

**. . . . . . . . . . **

The world had been quiet apart from their breathing ever since he had taken over the lead. The flash of a lizard as it rushed across the path in front of him had startled Jesse but apart from that they had been uninterrupted in their quest.

Suddenly a vulture rose into the sky and at that moment a scream rang out which filled him with dread. "Steve!" Jesse raced away from Ron; he only had one way he could go, so there was no possibility of making a mistake. The path stretched out before him and he shot up it before having to jam on his brakes as he took in the sight which met his eyes.

Steve was lying on the ground with a dog standing over him and attacking from the left while another one was pulling at some material on his right arm.

"Hey!" Jesse yelled at them and threw his water bottle at the two beasts. It struck the one who had straddled Steve hard on the back of the head and just for a second it paused, but its kill was too valuable and after that Jesse was ignored.

The growling of the dogs was awful but suddenly there was another sound and the first dog slumped over Steve's body. The second one, seeing its pack member fall whimpered and, with what tail it had, firmly between its legs, backed away but once it was at what it considered to be a safe distance it growled and bared it teeth again. The gun fired once more and the other dog fell. Jesse was on the move the moment he knew it was dead and he pulled on the original corpse needing to get to his friend to save him.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"Jeez, Steve, I don't need the practice, y'know? A quiet day in the country without the first aid would be just fine." He knew he was talking more to keep himself calm than anything else but maybe, just maybe, his friend could hear him and if so maybe, just maybe, it would help.

"At least he isn't sweating too much, that's got to be good, hasn't it?" Ron had moved the two carcasses out of the area they were in. The scavengers would be vying for position soon and he didn't want to have to shoot at something that was native to this area such as a vulture or a mountain lion.

"No, it isn't. That worries me more than any of the other injuries, and God knows he's got enough of them. No sweating means heatstroke and you can die of that alone." As he spoke Jesse pulled another bottle out of his backpack and, placing a finger over the open top to diffuse the water, began to pour it over his friend.

"His breathing is compromised, his pulse is fast and thready, his temperature is 108. I also know he has a dislocated shoulder, a back and stomach full of infected wounds and possibly a punctured lung. I hope you called that chopper because if we don't get him to a hospital STAT we're gonna lose him." Jesse's words were grim and his face was set in a deep frown. Ron pushed the earphone closer to his ear and began to shout a second message into the mouthpiece.

"This is FBI Special Agent Ron Wagner, where the hell's that chopper? We have Sloan, I repeat, we have Sloan. We need to airlift him out of here right now. Alert the hospital en route." Ron paused for a moment and then looked at Jesse. "What can I do?"

Jesse thought carefully, looked first at the tall man standing over him and then at his friend on the ground. "You could massage his legs. It should be all of him, but I think that his arms and body will have to go without." He watched as Ron crouched down and, carefully taking the leg with only half its pants on, began to press his fingers into the muscles carefully but firmly. "That's great. Ok, Steve. Let's see what we have here. I'm guessing you were pretty pleased with yourself when you rigged this up, huh?" Jesse was undoing the makeshift sling, which the second dog had been pulling at, as he spoke and as he carefully removed it he let out a gasp. Ron looked up and both of them could see that the wrist of Steve's right arm, where it had been rubbing against the harsh material of his pants leg, was raw and weeping in places. There were fibres and dirt in it and Jesse could see that it was infected. It was difficult to determine whether Steve's temperature was going to stay high once the heat stroke was under control or not, but right now Jesse would put money on it doing so.

The first dog to die had left a nasty wound on Steve's left shoulder and Jesse poured a little of the water over it, knowing that it would be sterilized and either stitched or glued at the hospital, but wanting to flush it out as infection was so rife in his friend's body. As he did so Steve shuddered and coughed and Jesse watched in horror as blood trickled out of his mouth.

Jesse listened intently to his friend's chest, and then, his face even more serious than it had been; he looked towards Ron and shook his head.

"What? What just happened?"

"He has a hemothorax, possibly a pneumothorax. I would rather wait until I can get him to an ER before I go in. He's in enough trouble as it is. Dirt in a deliberately inflicted wound I can do without."

"What's the difference? I'm guessing they're both serious." Ron carried on massaging Steve's leg but listened as Jesse began to explain.

"A hemothorax is common after a chest wall injury and it just means that he has blood in the chest. A pneumothorax is air in the pleural space. They can be linked and probably are in this case." He wiped his hand across his brow as he finished speaking. "What happened to those fans?"

"I'll get you one." Ron stopped what he was doing so he could open his backpack and Jesse felt Steve's pulse again before carefully laying his arm down by his side. As he did so Steve took a shuddering breath and became completely still.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

Amanda was sure that she knew every ceiling and floor tile in the ER Department of the Desert Oasis Hospital in Las Vegas. Mark had been in surgery it seemed like forever although she knew it was only just over the hour. Ron's phone had rung out when she tried him and now she was afraid to call him back in case it was the wrong moment, afraid to leave the hallway outside the OR in case they finished working on Mark and afraid to even think about Steve in case the unthinkable had happened.

Finally, unable to put one foot in front of the other any longer, she found her way to an empty chair next to the vending machine, rested her forehead against the cold metal and closed her eyes, just for a minute.

"Hey." The voice was soft, as was the finger which gently ran down her cheek.

"Ron!" Amanda looked round not knowing what had happened or where she was, but as it came back to her she leapt to her feet. "Steve … where's Steve and Mark, did they finish with Mark yet?"

"Shhhh. They're still working on Mark. Jesse is in with Steve. We found him."

"In time? Did you find him in time?" Amanda's eyes were full of tears as she looked into Ron's face and he took hold of her hand tightly as he replied.

"I don't honestly know."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

The waiting area of the Desert Oasis Hospital was cool, clean and plainly furnished. There were two rows of chairs back to back down the middle of the room as well as single rows up against three of the four walls. The hospital was fairly quiet and secluded and there had been very little interruption to Amanda and Ron's anxious stay.

They both knew that there weren't the facilities here that would be available at a large teaching hospital such as Community General but neither of them could voice their worry that, without those facilities, the wait would be in vain.

Finally, when Ron had been with Amanda for a little over two hours, a tall, dark haired man in blood-stained scrubs came into the room.

"Doctor Bentley?"

"Yes, that's me." Amanda stood up.

There were three other people in the room waiting for news of loved ones who had looked up as the newcomer arrived, but now returned to their quiet introspection.

"How are they?" She put one hand behind her and, just as she'd known he would, Ron had taken it into his own.

"They? I'm sorry; I'm just here to tell you about Mark Sloan."

"No, I'm sorry, his son was brought in too ... I just thought … Please go on."

"Well, we got lucky." The man watched as the woman in front of him took in the news and for a moment seemed stunned.

"Oh, thank God."

"I know that he received first aid at the scene of his shooting, I'm assuming from you, plus the swiftness of his transfer here, both those things worked in our favour."

"There … there was another doctor as well … Thank you, Doctor," Amanda paused, "I'm sorry; I don't know your name."

"My name is Doctor Johnson. This won't be plain sailing, as you obviously know, Mr. Sloan isn't a young man and he came very close to death. We'll monitor his condition in the ICU for a day or two and if he remains stable then we can arrange his transfer to a local hospital. I understand he isn't from here."

"No, no, he's not. We're all from LA. Do you …" Again Amanda paused, almost afraid that asking would be pushing her luck too far. "Do you know how Steve Sloan is doing?"

Doctor Johnson was silent for a moment and then both Ron and Amanda saw him realise just who they were talking about.

"The man who was brought in out of the desert?" The doctor seemed to suddenly clam up.

"Yes, that's him, how is he?" Ron, who had stood up as the doctor introduced himself, joined in the conversation.

"I heard the nurses talking as I came out of the OR. Something about an outside doctor treating him and it being touch and go. I'm sorry; I don't know anything more than that."

"Thank you. Can we … can we go and see Mark?" Amanda tried a smile, it wasn't very successful but she had to be positive.

Doctor Johnson checked his watch. "He'll be in recovery for about another half hour I would have thought. I'll arrange for a nurse to come get you as soon as he's comfortable in our ICU. We'll need to restrict the number of visitors but as there are only the two of you that should be fine."

"Thank you, Doctor." Amanda sat back down, her head spinning with what she had heard and all her medical training worth nothing. She was just an extremely worried friend who wished she didn't know as much as she did.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

"Come on, Steve, work with me here." The chest tube was firmly in place as was the vacuum device to inflate his friend's lung. A broad spectrum anti-biotic was being pumped into a vein in his left arm while his right shoulder was being supported until it was possible to treat it. The reassuring beeps and shushes from the ventilator filled the silences when Jesse had nothing to say to anyone.

Steve was lying in a trauma suite his lacerated back supported on soft memory foam. There were three large fans aimed at his naked body and two nurses were gently spraying him with tepid water. He had an ice-pack around his neck, under his left arm and on his groin, but so far his body was not responding to treatment.

The search and rescue helicopter had been fully equipped and everything that could be done for Steve had been, but Jesse knew that unless he got him to a larger hospital it wouldn't be enough.

He had requested a medivac plane to take the two of them back to Community General, but he desperately wanted his friend's condition to stabilize before they left. The fact that Steve still hadn't regained consciousness was an additional worry, along with the fact that he had been bitten by a dog and would possibly need a set of rabies shots. Jesse was seriously considering leaving town and letting someone else tell him about those.

The trauma suite had an x-ray gantry which had been used to the full since Steve's arrival. The diagnosis of a dislocated shoulder had been easily confirmed and the other films had shown that although he had obviously received at least one severe beating he had no broken bones apart from five ribs on one side and two the other. The wound in his stomach had been cleaned and stitched but still looked red and angry as did the slices to his chest which Jesse was sure had been inflicted by a scalpel or thin blade of some kind.

"His temperature is steady at 107.9 degrees Fahrenheit, Doctor Travis." The voice was that of a man standing just to the right of Steve's head. Doctor Matthews was the main trauma doctor and had ceded his authority to Jesse grudgingly.

"Damn. Ok, let's try some cooling blankets as well. If that doesn't work then I'll start with the slush." As Jesse spoke Steve began to move and Jesse watched in horror as his friend suffered a seizure.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

Ron and Amanda had been collected by a very austere looking middle-aged woman in an excessively starched uniform. Despite the seriousness of the situation, or maybe because of it, Ron found himself wondering what Jesse or Steve would make of the lady as she waddled towards the elevator. He had a feeling that his friend, however ill he was feeling, would rather have no treatment than relinquish control to her.

The journey up to the third floor was undertaken in total silence with Amanda holding onto his hand tightly. He knew that she had been in the position before where she had sat in an ICU suite with Steve, but Mark was an even more important figure in her life, someone she respected and loved totally. He had a feeling that she was going to find this extremely hard.

The nurse stopped walking and turned towards them. As she did so her face broke into an encouraging smile and her entire demeanour changed. Instantly she was an efficient but caring individual and Ron found it impossible not to smile back at her.

"Mr. Sloan is still under heavy sedation; he has a vacuum device to re-inflate his lung which collapsed during surgery. He is also on a ventilator to reduce the stress on his body. I know that you're a doctor, Ma'am, but if you have any questions please just press the call button and I'll come and answer them for you."

"Thank you. Is it alright if we go in now?" Amanda felt suddenly very small. She was sure, or part of her was, that it would be fine to go right on in, and at Community General she would have done just that, but here, in this strange place, she had to ask first.

"Of course; is there anything I can get you, coffee maybe? I know that it is a long and traumatic process sitting with someone like this."

"We're fine right now, thank you. In fact I think we're both coffee'd out." Ron had let Amanda go into the room first so that she would be sitting closest to Mark. He smiled at the nurse, glad that she would never know how he had originally viewed her.

Mark was lying in a beautifully made bed, the blankets finishing just above his waist. There was a large bandage across the wound in his chest, as well as a drainage tube and vacuum pipe going in and out of his body. None of that mattered to Amanda, although she noticed it all in one expert glance, what did matter was that he was alive, he was still with them, he had survived.

"Oh, Mark, I am so pleased to see you." Her voice shook as she spoke and to cover up her distress she took his hand into her own and gently ran her thumb across the back of it.

"We found him, Mark. Jesse and Ron found him. Ron is here but Jesse is with Steve. He's in a bad way, but you know Jesse, that never stopped him before." Amanda found that she could smile as she talked about her friends, the men who made up the other parts of her support network. Without them, any of them, she was far less of a person than she was when they were all with her.

The room descended into silence; neither of them knowing what to say. Ron saw Amanda take a deep breath and let it out as an emotion-filled sigh. Ron watched for a moment before carefully moving his chair so he was a little nearer to her and he smiled as she leant into him and let him hold her close.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

The seizure, although it hadn't lasted very long, seemed endless to Jesse. He knew that he had to get his friend home or he would die. The decision hadn't been difficult to make. It would take just over an hour to fly to Los Angeles. The closest hospital by road with the necessary facilities was thirty minutes away. Jesse knew that Steve would respond far better if he realised he was home and he was prepared to take the risk of doubling the journey time for that to happen.

As Jesse got ready to try and work on Steve's shoulder he spared a thought for Mark. He had sent a nurse to find out how the surgery was going and had been heartened to discover that it was over and Mark was in recovery. He had a feeling that, by now, Ron and Amanda would be with him and at least one battle would be almost won.

"Ok. I know we're transporting this patient soon but I want the shoulder dealt with first. He's a cop, the longer the shoulder is out of place the longer he is out of work and trust me he is far nicer when he's working!" Jesse was smiling as he spoke and was pleased to see the other medical staff joining him. He knew he was an interloper, an outsider, who had come in and claimed the trauma suite as his own. But this was Steve and nobody else was going to do what he was about to do.

"Thankfully he is already in a supine position, I don't think we could actually move him if he was facing downwards. The anaesthesia for the vacuum device is still strong so I don't need any more of that. Right, Buddy, just try to relax and forget that you're a muscle bound beach bum for a moment, ok?" Carefully Jesse took Steve's large hand into his own smaller one and, keeping the arm straight, began drawing it towards his friend's midline lifting it slightly at the same time. The definition of Steve's chest made it easy to see where the vertical middle was and he used gentle traction to get it to the right position. There was already some resistance and once he was sure that everything was as it should be he knew that the real struggle was about to begin. Jesse started to move the humeral head in the direction of the front of Steve's body, grunting automatically as he put the effort required into moving against very strong, unrelenting muscles. Finally, he felt the reassuring sensation of everything falling back into its rightful place; he then bent the arm at the elbow and rested it across his friend's chest while he gathered himself back together.

"Next time I choose a best friend I'm gonna make him a wimp!" A nurse wiped his brow and he smiled at her. "Thanks." His own arms ached from the pressure he'd had to assert against muscles which didn't want to let him do what he was supposed to, muscles he knew his friend had worked on for a long time. Now all he needed to do was x-ray it again and protect it for the forthcoming journey.

The pain which must have accompanied his procedure even with the anaesthetic had caused a change in Steve and just for a moment he opened his eyes. The ventilator prevented him from speaking but Jesse saw him and moved so that his friend knew he was there.

"Hey, welcome back. Shhh, it's ok. You're safe; do you understand me? It's over, Steve, and you're safe again."

There didn't need to be any more words spoken. The relief and total trust that Jesse saw in his best friend's eyes were more than enough and as Steve drifted away again he kept his own eyes firmly focused on him knowing that the first half of the second battle was also almost won.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

Jesse collapsed onto the sofa in the doctor's lounge and ran a hand over his eyes. The emotion of the last week was trying to overwhelm him. He had tears which were too close to the surface and he knew that if anyone said a kind word to him they would escape and he may never be able to stop them.

Amanda had stayed with Steve, but he couldn't. The events had been so traumatic and draining for both of them and for the first time since they had found him Jesse felt that he had let his friend down. Rationally he knew that he couldn't have done any differently but still it didn't ease his pain or that which he suffered on Steve's behalf.

The scenes from the last few days wouldn't let him go, and as he closed his eyes they rose up in front of him again.

_It had been five days since Steve had been transported back to __Community General__Hospital__ and in almost all that time it had never been more than 40% in favour of his survival. The heatstroke had nearly killed him the day they found him. Nothing they tried would bring his temperature down to a workable level, but during the journey on the medivac plane, when he had been packed in ice with fans on him the entire time finally, bit by bit, he had begun to respond._

_His temperature had dropped but, as Jesse had known would happen, the infection ravaging his already weakened body stopped it falling below 103 degrees. Now though, almost a week after they had found him, that too was responding. _

Jesse stopped thinking. He couldn't go there. He knew that Steve had been through an awful time, but that didn't mean that he hadn't too, or Amanda and Ron, or Mark … Mark, that was where the problems had begun, with Mark.

_Slowly Steve opened his eyes and Jesse, taking down a note of his vitals at just the right time, had smiled and stopped what he was doing._

_"Hey, Stranger.__ How's it going?" He knew that Steve couldn't reply but he also knew that he had to say something. "Give me a few minutes to check you over and I'll think about removing the ventilator ok?" Steve had just looked at him, but it was clear that his friend understood. There was confusion in his eyes, but not so much as to indicate that he didn't follow the words._

The removal of the ventilator, never a pleasant job, but even less so when the patient was in obvious pain, had been traumatic for both of them. As soon as it was over Steve had tried to speak.

_"Dad?"__ The word had been faint and raspy; before he answered Jesse had carefully put some ice slivers on his friend's tongue. "Hot … Dad?"_

_"I know you are, but trust me you're not as hot as you were. Mark's not here, Steve. But he will be, in a couple of days." He had so not wanted to be the one to tell him that his father, an ever present force in his life, was still lying in a different hospital, in a different state, fighting the treatment he was receiving, just as Steve had been._

_"No … Dad …" Steve had closed his eyes for a moment and Jesse had watched intently, making sure that he didn't miss anything. Slowly his friend's eyes opened again and Jesse could see the confusion and exhaustion there. "Where …? Jess, where's Dad?"_

_The figures on the machines around Steve's bed were nowhere near as stable as Jesse wanted them to be before he began telling him that his dad had been injured searching for him and so almost unbidden a lie came to his lips. "He had to stay a coupla days where we found you, he'll be back soon." _

_"Don't want to be … alone." The admission had almost broken Jesse's heart; he had never before heard his friend make such an admission of vulnerability. Steve's chest had begun to heave as the emotion of all that he had been through fought its way to the surface and Steve hadn't had the energy to fight it. The tears had started then, and even though Jesse could see the discomfort and pain that the weeping was causing he hadn't been able to do anything to stop it._

_The crying had exhausted Steve and he had slipped back into his unconscious world. Jesse had sedated him, knowing that in his distressed state he would only worsen his condition otherwise._

That had been two days ago and things hadn't gotten any better. Steve had finally refused all medication and treatment until either he was taken to his father or his father was brought to him. It was then that Jesse had called and asked Amanda to come back from Vegas, leaving Ron to stay with Mark so that they could explain things together.

_"What happened … I … I don't … Jess, where's Dad?" Steve had tried to raise himself up in the bed but the agony just that small movement had caused stopped him in his tracks. "Arghhh! Jess?"_

_"Steve, I want you to stay quiet, I will talk with you but you have to just listen. This … this isn't easy for me either so," Steve had interrupted him then._

_"Why? What's wrong … Jesse?" The anguish that Jesse had accidentally caused by admitting his own problem had increased Steve's immediate anxiety and that had resulted in more pain. Jesse didn't want to make things any worse than they already were and so he ignored what his friend asked and continued as if Steve had said nothing._

_"Please, Steve, just listen ok?" Steve had nodded his head and again pain had crossed his handsome features._

_"Every … everything … hurts."_

_"Yeah, I know, Buddy, I know." Jesse was just about to begin his difficult job when he saw Amanda out of the corner of his eye coming down the hallway. The relief he felt at having the job halved was enormous, but he knew that even now it wasn't going to be easy._

_So far all Jesse had told Steve had been what was wrong with him and that Mark wasn't with them. Steve had been in so much pain, and still slipping in and out of consciousness the entire time that, until early that morning, when he had finally rebelled, Jesse had gotten away with his evasiveness._

_"Do you remember what happened to you?" Jesse asked the question as he saw Amanda stop walking just out of view of her friend. They had agreed over the phone that he wouldn't tell Steve she was there. Somehow if he knew, then the absence of his father would seem, to them at least, all the more pronounced._

_"No … yes … Melosa … Mando … Mando's sister … Jess! She … she's after Dad …! Where's Dad. Jesse … please!" The last words were torn from him and in one movement of incredible strength and speed, powered by adrenaline alone, Steve was almost out of the bed, pulling at the tubes which were still attached to him. _

_"Steve!" It was all that Jesse could do to catch his friend as he fell into his arms, the fears and sudden exertion sapping him of the little energy he had regained during his enforced rest._

Amanda had been unable to stay in the corridor; she had rushed to Jesse's aid and together they had managed to carefully manoeuvre Steve back into bed without causing any further damage.

Physically that had been possible, but mentally Jesse knew that more harm had been done than he could undo at a stroke and he had prepared himself for the task to come knowing he was about to make things even worse. Amanda had made her way around to the opposite side of the bed and then, as he was protected by friends, Jesse had begun to tell Steve what had happened.

The hunt, the realisation that Steve hadn't been where he was supposed to be, the discovery of the body and then the linking of that to one of Steve's old cases, that had been easy to relate, but Jesse had been able to tell that his friend wasn't really listening, didn't want to know any of it. He only wanted to know where his dad was.

_"We didn't know that she was after Mark." Jesse had closed his eyes for a moment as the scene came back up in his mind. "She was waiting for us, Steve, at the house where you were held. When we came back out … when we came out she shot Mark."_

_"No! Jesse, oh, God ... Is he …? He's not here, Jess. Manda, please, tell me why my dad's not here … Is he dead?" His emotional state had been so unstable, so ragged that his eyes had filled with tears and tellingly he had been unable to stop two from falling. Amanda had carefully wiped her friend's face with a tissue from the box on the nightstand and then she had shaken her head._

_"Honey, he's not dead, but he's just not well enough to be transferred here yet." Her eyes had been so full of love and emotion that Jesse had found himself swallowing hard as he waited for his turn to speak again._

_"There … take me … there … I … go to him." This time there was no need for Steve to plead, the emotion in his face was evident to both of his friends. The strong and stoic man, who they had always relied on to be strong for them was, in his own way, begging for help, and they couldn't give it._

_"He'll be up to being moved long before you are, Buddy, she did a real job on you."_

_"I know." Steve had turned his head downwards, it was the only place he could look and not see his friends' faces and Jesse had realised immediately that he was embarrassed._

_"Steve, you need to rest. I'll get your medication changed so that the pain is bearable for you now you're conscious, and give you a mild sedative …"_

_"No! Nothing … I told you nothing … I need to see Dad. Jess, take me to him." The stubbornness which made Steve Sloan such an efficient and respected homicide detective came to the fore and Jesse had taken a mental step back._

_"Steve, listen to me, just for a minute, ok?"__ Amanda had gently turned her friend's face with her finger so that he was looking directly at her. "We can't arrange to get you moved this late in the day. Let Jesse treat you overnight and then, in the morning, we can reassess the situation. Ron is with Mark, he's not alone, he hasn't been since he came out of the OR. Maybe by tomorrow we'll have some more positive news and we can discuss it again."_

_Steve had tried to shake his head but Amanda's hand had held him firm. "How do you think your dad will feel if we let you go up to see him in this state? Steve, you have to get stronger first."_

_"Dad."__ The one word had been wrenched from Steve before he had fallen back into the pillows defeated. He could be inflexible and obstinate but he also was man enough to know when he was beaten and so, without another word, he had closed his eyes, forcing another tear to slip down his cheek._

Jesse stood up and went to get himself a coffee. Amanda had effectively bought him eighteen hours of treatment. He had seen Steve take in the fact that it was a little after ten o'clock; but he had believed Amanda when she said it was night time and, with the blinds firmly closed, there had been nothing to prove their lie. So thanks to one friend the other was now sleeping until the following morning.

**. . . . . . . . . . **

The extra time that both the hospital in Las Vegas and Jesse had been given had been enough to ward off a major Steve Sloan explosion. That morning a plane had landed at LAX and then a helicopter had transferred Mark to Community General. Jesse had taken over Mark's care and had been pleasantly surprised by his condition.

The infection had definitely weakened him and it would be a while before he could even think about returning to work, but Steve had to get his hard-headedness from someone and Jesse knew that he may have to lock the doors of the beach house to keep them both at home.

Steve had been ready to leave the ICU by the time that Mark was being placed in an intermediate care room and so the two of them, both asleep when the changes had been made, awoke to a scene that had warmed the hearts of Jesse, Amanda and Ron all of whom had witnessed it.

_"Jess?"__ Steve's voice was croaky again and he had carefully slipped a straw into his mouth and watched as he drank a small amount of iced water. Once he had done that, and Jesse had tried to hide his smile, Steve had begun to move._

_"Hey, injured person, remember! Broken ribs, concussion, dislocated shoulder, sunburn. Need I go on?"_

_"I have to go; Jesse … please … let me go." _

_"I wouldn't … he'll sulk." The voice was quiet and soft but it had the effect of stopping time._

_"Dad!"__ Finally, realising that all he wanted was right there beside him, Steve turned carefully in the bed to see his father, lying semi reclined, pale but alive, and his world was complete._

**_. . . . . . . . . ._**

****

It was hot and dusty in the car, Dimi had found her, she had hidden out in the national park driving at night, resting during the day and the evening she was considering making a break for it he had found her.

She had heard the news on the radio, she had failed in her task, but one day, one day soon she would return, and when she did then failure wouldn't be an option.

The End?


End file.
